TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS; 

A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA. 


AND 


CONCHITA; 

A    MEXICAN    ROMANCE 


BY 


MARGUERITE  LOUISE  VERDIER. 


WILLIAM  L.  ALLISON  COMPANY, 

54  WARREN  STREET, 


Entered  according  to   Act  of   Congress  in  the 

Year  1894,  by 

MARGUERITE  LOUISE  VERDIER, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 

at    Washington,  D.   C. 


TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

A    TALE    OF    SOUTH     FLORIDA. 


CHAPTER   I. 


"  All  the  world's  a  stage." — STiaTcespeare. 

"I  CAN  stand  it  no  longer  !"  I  exclaim  in  despair. 
1  I  shall  do  something  desperate  !" 

"Well,  dear  girl,"  returns  Bess, "no  action  of 
yours,  no  matter  how  outrageous,  could  render  us 
more  wretched.  I  hope  Uncle  Nelson's  shade  is 
properly  ashamed  of  itself  for  treating  you  so  shab- 
bily." " 

"Yes,"  I  answer  plaintively,  "after  being 
afflicted  with  such  an  unfeminine  name,  I  certainly 
deserved  a  nice  lot  of  money  at  his  death.  However, 
I  cannot  and  will  not  stand  Uncle  Greyson's  whims 
much  longer." 

Bess  hugs  her  knees  affectionately  as  she  remarks 
reflectively,  "Yes,  I  believe  he  grows  worse  every 
day.  Did  you  notice  how  he  '  cleared  '  poor  Auntie 
down  at  breakfast,  and  how  he  scowled  at  every 
thing  on  the  table  ?" 

"  Oh  I  could  stand  that  if  he  would  only  behave 
when  company  is  here.  I  really  believe  he  throws 
those  horrid  shoes  with  his  whole  force,  and  I  know 
his  throat  is  sore  from  hard  scraping.  Visitors  are 


2134046 


2  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

my  terror ;  the  torture  begins  with  their  entrance 
and  continues  long  after  their  departure." 

"Would  you  not  like  to  teach  him  company 
manners  ?" 

"  I  would  indeed.  Nothing  would  give  me  keener 
joy  than  to  become  his  wife  for  one  week.  He 
would  rightly  appreciate  poor  Auntie  when  I  fin- 
ished with  him.  But  to  the  point — how  can  we 
girls  support  ourselves  ?  I  can  perform  011  several 
instruments,  paint  and  nurse  the  sick.  Surely  one 
.of  these  accomplishments  should  prove  lucrative." 

"  And  I "  laughs  my  sister,  "understand  nothing 
save  housekeeping.  Therefore,  unless  I  procure  the 
position  of  cook,  I  have  no  possible  way  of  making 
money.  I  have  lived  with  Uncle  long  enough  to 
become  accustomed  to  his  ways ;  but  it  is  hard  on 
you.  Really,  though,  he  is  not  so  bad  when  you 
understand  just  how  to  slip  around  his  little 
angles." 

"There  is  the  difficulty.  I  never  know  when  I 
tread  on  forbidden  ground  and  am  in  constant  terror 
of  raising  a  storm.  How  was  I  to  know,  when  I 
remarked  that  the  Johnstons  were  nice  people,  that 
he  objected  to  nice  in  that  particular  sense  ?  Dearly 
as  I  love  talking  I  would  gladly  refrain  in  his  pres- 
ence." 

"  But  that  only  rouses  his  indignation.  We  must 
talk  whether  we  wish  to  or  not." 

"Well,"  I  continue,  "my  mind  is  fixed.  I  shall 
advertise  for  employment.  By  the  way,  where  i  ; 
the  Times-Union?  I  will  look  it  over  for  the  sal.  o 
of  Auld  Lang  Syne." 

"  Oh,  would  it  not  be  lovely  to  spend  the  winter 
in  Florida  ?  You  have  been  there  so  often,  but  I, 
poor  creature — here  is  the  paper.  Oh,  if  you  could 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  3 

only  find  an  advertisement  from  some  wealthy  old 
lady  who  desires  a  housekeeper  and  companion  to 
;;  -company  her  to  that  sunny  land!  Suppose  you 
road  the  '  ads  '  aloud  for  my  benefit." 

"  '  Wanted — a  boy  to  sweep  out  store  and  carry  par- 
cels. Terms  $3. 00  per  week.  Apply  at  No.  —  Bay  St." 

"How  does  that  suit?" 

"Oh  go  on!" 

"'Wanted — a  good  wet  nurse.  Terms  liberal. 
Apply  at  this  office.' ' 

Bess  shakes  her  head. 

"Well,  how  is  this?" 

"  '  A  young  man  of  pleasing  address  would  like  to 
correspond  with  a  young  lady  matrimonially  in- 
clined. Will  exchange  photos.  Address  X.  Y.  Z. 
box,  No.  4.'" 

"  Not  even  his  photo  would  tempt  me,"  she  says 
mournfully. 

"  Ah !"  I  cry,  "  I  have  found  it  I" 

"My  old  lady?" 

"No.     Listen." 

"'Wanted  a  young  man  of  good  education,  to 
teach  a  mixed  school.  Terms  $75  per  month.  Ap- 
ply to  Peter  Schneider,  M ,  Fla.' ' 

"Now,  Bess,  that's  the  very  thing.  I  shall  ad- 
dress 'Peter  Schneider  '  by  the  next  mail." 

"But,  dear  girl,  you  are  not  a  young  man." 

"Certainly  not,  you  little  innocent;  but  perhaps 
my  masculine  appellation  will  assist  me.  My  writ- 
ing, you  remember,  is  large  and  manish;  at  any 
rate,  we  shall  have  some  fun.  Now  do  not  mention 
this  to  either  Uncle  or  Aunt  until  we  hear  from  our 
lovely  Dutchman. 

"You  may  fool  the  lovely  Dutchman,  but  you 
dare  not  face  him  in  petticoats." 


4  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Oh  well,  we  shall  wait  for  his  answer.  Shall  I 
ask  if  he  needs  a  housekeeper?" 

"No.  I  am  sure  he  is  a  comfortable  farmer, 
reveling  in  the  charms  of  a  red  faced  Frau  and  a 
housefull  of  children.  But  I  do  not  know  just 
where  M is.  Go  on ;  I  shall  find  it." 

I  write  my  letter  and  return  to  the  sitting-room. 
Bess  still  bends  anxiously  over  the  map  of  Florida. 

"I  can  not  find  it,"  she  says  dismally,  "I  believe 
it  is  a  hoax." 

"Nonsense!"  I  cry,  indignantly.  "Look  in  the 
southwest,  far  down,  near  the  Everglades.  It  is 
either  on  a  river  or  the  coast." 

"Why,"  she  says  in  surprise,  "how  do  you  know 
so  much  about  it  ?  Were  you  ever  there  ?" 

"No,  but  Uncle  Nelson  and  I  met  a  young  fellow 
last  winter  who  was  just  from  there.  He  gave 
such  glowing  accounts  of  the  hunting  and  fishing 
that  we  really  started,  but  found,  before  reaching 
there,  the  place  had  no  hotel  accommodations,  so 

turned  back.  See,  here  is  M on  the  C river, 

not  very  far  from  its  mouth.  Come,  let  us  post  our 
letter  before  dinner." 

"I  tell  you  Nel,  if  anything  does  come  of  that  let- 
ter, we'll  have  a  most  terrific  time  with  Uncle. 
You'll  have  to  tell  him." 

"Very  well,  I'm  not  afraid  of  him;  he  knows  it 
too,  and  respects  me  accordingly." 


CHAPTER  II. 


"  He  is  happy  whose  circumstances  suit  his  temper  ;  he  Is  more  excel- 
lent who  can  suit  his  temper  to  any  circumstances." — Hume. 

WE  have  posted  our  letter  and  are  returning 
home,  when  Bess  exclaims  : 

"  By  all  that  is  disagreeable,  here  comes  my  de- 
voted admirer  Frank  King !  Hold  the  umbrella 
more  that  way,  so  he  will  not  recognize  us.  I  would 
not  have  him  walk  home  with  us  for  anything 
under  the  sun." 

"Why?    I  thought  him  rather  nice." 

"Yes,"  hurriedly  adjusting  the  umbrella,  "he  is 
all  that  and  much  more ;  but  Auntie  has  a  hobby 
for  inviting  people  to  dinner,  and  I  know  there  is 
not  a  particle  of  meat  '  to  set  before  the  King ' — 
Uncle's  latest  crank." 

We  almost  run,  but  despite  our  greatest  efforts,  a 
merry  voice  calls  after  us  : 

"Stop  a  moment,  Miss  Bessie !  I  never  thought 
you  would  slight  an  old  friend.  I  am  convinced  you 
were  trying  to  evade  me.  Come,  you  may  as  well 
confess,  for  I  shall  never  believe  the  contrary." 

Mr.  King  has  reached  us,  and  is  looking  quizzically 
into  my  sister's  blushing  face. 

"I  was,"  she  confesses  saucily.  "When  the  occa- 
sion demands  it,  I  always  emulate  the  Father  of  my 
country ;  though  unlike  him,  I  can  tell  a  lie." 

"You  astound  me !"  he  cries  in  mock  dismay. 
"Are  all  young  ladies  so  proficient?" 


6  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"Certainly!  all  can,  but  few  indulge  often. 
Lying,  I  believe,  is  a  peculiarly  masculine  gift,  per 
fected  by  long  practice." 

"Little  girls  should  be  careful  and  not  say 
naughty  things  to  their  elders.  But  why  did  you 
run  from  me  ?" 

"  Shall  I  tell  him,  Nel?" 

"  Yes.  Mr.  King  will  then  understand  the  situa- 
tion, and  like  you  all  the  better  for  being 
candid." 

"  As  if  that  were  possible !"  he  exclaims  senti- 
mentally. 

"Then,"  says  Bess,  bravely,  "when  we  get  home, 
and  Auntie  asks  you  to  stay  to  dinner,  you  must 
have  a  pressing  engagement  elsewhere — unless,  in- 
deed, you  wish  literally,  to  break  bread  with  us. 
Not  the  least  particle  of  meat  will  you  have,  for 
Uncle  has  taken  the  absurd  notion  that  all  anima^ 
food  is  injurious,  and  will  not  allow  it  in  the  house. 

Now  then,  I  hope  you  are  satisfied — what  are  you 
laughing  at  ?  I  must  say,  you  have  a  strange  way 
of  expressing  sympathy !" 

"I  suppose  I  should  say  something  to  console 
you,"  he  answers,  suppressing  his  laughter,  "but, 
really,  it  is  so  irresistibly  funny — you  must  excuse 
my  unseemly  mirth." 

"You'd  not  laugh,"  retorts  Bess,  "if  you  were 
one  of  the  poor  victims." 

"This  is  certainly  a  novel  experience,"  he  con- 
tinues, still  laughing.  "Never,  in  the  whole  course 
of  my  long  and  eventful  career,  have  I  been  re- 
quested to  decline  an  invitation.  Really,  young 
ladies,  you  are  too  hard  on  me." 

'•  We  are  your  friends,  young  man," 

"I  have  half  a  mind  to  accept." 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  7 

"  Then  suffer  the  consequences  of  your  own  rash- 
ness!" 

"  Is  it  meet  and  right  that  you — 

"It  is  not  meat.  I  have  told  you  it  is  neither 
seen,  smelt  nor  tasted  in  our  house." 

"  Then,  if  we  become  too  ravenous,  a  little  canni- 
balism should  be  allowed.  I  propose  that  Uncle 
shall  become  the  first  victim. ' 

"Yes,"  remarks  Bess,  "it  certainly  would  be 
sweet  to  crunch  his  old  bones.  But"  with  an 
alarmed  expression  "would  he  not  be  awfully 
tough  ?  You  know  he  is  not  so  young  as  he  has 
been." 

"  When  desperate  through  hunger,  we  never  fret 
about  trifles.  But  I  have  heard,  that  a  '  pinch  of 
soda '  rubbed  over  tough  meat,  had  a  wonderfully 
tendering  effect." 

"Oh,  there  is  Auntie — I  hope  she  didn't  hear  our 
nonsense." 

We  had  reached  the  gate  near  which  Auntie  was 
cutting  flowers. 

She  is  a  sweet,  gentle  little  woman,  much  too 
weak  to  struggle  against  the  stern  realities  of 
Uncle's  whims. 

On  seeing  us,  she  came  forward,  shook  hands 
with  our  escort,  and  gave  the  much  talked  of  invi- 
tation. 

With  one  wicked  glance  at  Bess,  he  politely  ac- 
cepted. 

"Nel,"  says  Auntie,  as  in  advance  of  the  others 
we  enter  the  house,  "will  you  arrange  a  bouquet  for 
the  table,  you  have  such  taste — but  dear  me,  1  so 
wish  we  had  even  a  small  piece  of  meat ;  but  your 
Uncle  is  so  very  peculiar.  Do  you  think,  dear,  that 
we  need  any  thing  extra?" 


8  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"  I  think  not.     But  what  have  you  ?" 

"  There  is  soup,  potatoes,  egg-plant,  okra,  toma- 
toes, rice,  light  rolls,  corn-bread,  buttermilk,  and 
cream  and  peaches." 

"  'A  feast  for  the  gods  '  "  quote  I.  " But  you  do 
need,  and  shall  have  both  soup-plates  and  napkins." 

"Oh,  my  dear  child,  I  am  so  afraid  your  Uncle 
will  make  a  scene — you  know  how  he  objects  to 
both." 

"I  will  bear  the  blame.  You  know  how  mortified 
Bess  would  feel  to  compel  her  admirer  to  wipe  his 
mustache  on  the  table  cloth." 

Our  dinner  bell  rings  at  twelve  sharp.  The  last 
sound  is  still  vibrating  through  the  house,  when 
Uncle  seats  himself  and  begins  eating. 

He  is  a  dark,  stern  man,  upon  whose  face  is 
stamped  an  expression  of  chronic  discontent. 

"My  dear,"  says  Auntie,  one  eye  nervously  re- 
garding the  door,  the  other  fixed  anxiously  upon 
his  face,  "Young  King  is  here." 

"D d  if  I  care!"  retorts  her  lord.  "If  you 

choose  to  ask  every  young  jackanapes  in  the  coun- 
try to  waste  his  time  by  lounging  here,  you  can  do 
the  polite  yourself.  I'll  be  dogged  if — hello,  King ! 
Waiting  for  you,  you  see.  I  make  a  point  of  always 
being  on  time,  and  wait  for  no  one.  Help  yourself; 
you  have  more  time  than  I." 

And  he  proceeds  again  to  gobble. 

Bess,  on  seeing  her  napkin,  gives  me  one  grateful 
look,  then  adroitly  slips  it  into  her  lap  without 
attracting  undue  attention. 

Mr.  King,  however,  quite  unconscious  of  the 
wrath  to  come,  unfolds  his  in  such  a  leisurely  man- 
ner, that  the  evil  eye  is  fixed  upon  him. 

"What   /ooZ"   exclaims    our    ogre,   "put  these 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA. 

cussed  things  on  the  table  ?"  and  before  any  of  us 
could  utter  a  word,  he  seized  the  nearest  napkin, 
ring  and  all,  and  flung  it  violently  across  the  room. 
Poor  Auntie  looked  as  if  she  would  cry.  She 
gulped  it  down,  however,  and  bit  her  lips. 

"Uncle,"  I  say,  looking  him  calmly  in  the  eye,  "I 
arranged  the  table,  and  am  accountable  for  all  objec- 
tionable articles.  You  remember  our  agreement." 
"Yes,  yes;"  he  answers  hurriedly,  "  do  as  you 
please,  only  give  up  that  fool  notion  of  working  for 
yourself.  This  young  lady,  King,  wants  to  teach, 
nurse  or  do  anything  to  render  herself  independent 
of  cross  old  Uncle." 

"Why  not?"  asks  the  young  man,  " Girls  are  far 
more  happy  when  usefully  occupied. 

"Tut,  tut !  utter  nonsense  !  Now  see  here,  would 
you  allow  your  sister,  if  you  had  one,  to  make  her 
her  own  living?" 

"If  I  had  a  dozen  sisters,  each  should  follow  the 
occupation  for  which  she  felt  best  fitted.  Why, 

my  cousin,  Ida  F is  considered  one  of  the  finest 

surgeons  in  the  State.    Dr.  S you  know  his 

reputation — won't    perform    a  difficult    operation 
without  her  assistance." 

"Humph!  I've  heard  of  her — exceptional  case. 
Few  women  could  do  it.  Too  nervous  and  hyster- 
ical. My  wife,  there,  faints  at  the  sight  of  blood— 
a  pretty  surgeon  she  would  make  ! 

No,  sir,  women  had  better  keep  in  their  own 
sphere,  and  let  men's  alone  !  A  rare  exception  only 
proves  the  rule.  But  I  cannot  sit  here  and  talk  all 
day  ;  I  have  my  work  to  do." 

Out  he  stalks,  leaving  three  crushed  and  deeply 
mortified  females,  and  one  amused  though  gravely 
polite  male. 


10  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"Excuse  me,"  falters  Auntie,  rising  to  escape, 
"  I  hear  the  cat  in  the  pantry.'' 

"  You  wretch !"  cries  Bess,  turning  her  angry 
eyes  upon  our  guests.  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  he  had 
slung  it  at  you  !" 

"  Thank  you."  he  returns  witli  a  laugh,  "  This  is 
altogether,  the  most  delightfully  unique  affair  I 
ever  attended.  Do  you  have  such  treats  every  day, 
or  does  he  reserve  himself  for  strangers?" 
"Can  you  not  see  that  she  is  really  distressed  ?"  I 
ask  indignantly. 

"Miss  Bessie,"  he  begs,  now  quite  contrite,  "for- 
give me."  You  know,  'to  err  is  human.' ' 

"But,"  she  retorts  from  the  half  closed  door,"as  I 
am  far  from  divine,  I  will  get  even  with  you,  or  my 
name  is  not  Bessie  Kieth !" 


CHAPTER  III. 


"We  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 
Or  lose  our  ventures  " — Shakespeare. 

MORE  than  two  weeks  have  passed  since  we 
mailed  my  letter  to  Peter  Schneider,  and  our 
anxiety  for  an  answer  increases  with  Uncle's  cranks. 
Poor  fellow  !  I  believe  he  developes  a  new  one  every 
day.  Now,  Uncle  is  not  a  bad  man;  yet  he  manages  to 
make  himself  and  all  around  him  hopelessly  un- 
happy. I  sometimes  think  if  Auntie  and  himself 
were  more  congenial,  life  would  be  more  endurable; 
but  as  they  have  no  tastes  in  common  and  many 
that  clash,  our  domestic  calm  is  often  disturbed. 
To  be  sure,  Auntie  yields,  though  never  without  a 
struggle ;  and  broods  continually  over  her 
"wrongs."  Had  she  asserted  herself  in  the  begin- 
ning, they  would  now,  in  all  probability,  be  reason- 
ably happy. 

But  now,  with  neither  love  or  respect  for  each 
other,  they  are  merely  struggling  through  a  miser- 
able existence. 

I  never  knew  them  intimately  until  last  May 
when  Uncle  Nelson  died.  Uncle  Nelson  was 
Father's  brother ;  he  adopted  me  when  my  parents, 
stricken  with  that  fell  destroyer,  small  pox,  died 
within  an  hour  of  each  other. 

He  treated  me  in  all  respects  as  a  well  loved 
daughter,  and  spoke  of  me  always  as  his  heiress. 

On  his  death,  however,  the  only  will  found  was 


12  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

one  made  before  my  birth,  in  which  he  left  every 
thing  to  a  Scotch  cousin. 

John  Brownlow,  Uncle  Nelson's  lawyer,  swore 
that  he  had  drawn  up  a  will  in  my  favor,  had  seen 
it  signed  and  duly  attested,  but  we  never  found  it. 

He  wrote  these  facts  to  my  Scotch  cousin,  propos- 
ing to  divide  the  property,  and  received  the  follow- 
ing answer : 

"  JOHN  BROWNLOW,  Attorney  at  Law. 

Dear  Sir, — My  cousin  can  expect  nothing  from 
me.  Had  my  Uncle  wished  her  to  inherit  any  por- 
tion of  his  property,  he  would  undoubtedly,  have 
left  his  later  will  in  a  convenient  place.  "His  failure 
to  do  so,  bespeaks,  to  my  mind,  a  regret  for  the 
money  already  lavished  upon  her.  I  am,  sir, 
Yours  with  respect, 

ALAN  DOUGLAS  KIETH, 

Aberdeen,  Scotland,  May  25, 18—." 

Life  looked  dark,  indeed  when  Uncle  Greyson, 
mother's  brother,  came  to  take  me  to  his  mountain 
home.  "Bessie  has  been  with  us  these  fifteen 
years,"  he  said  kindly,  "and  when  you  join  us,  the 
family  will  be  complete." 

Both  he  and  Auntie  are  very  kind  (in  their  own 
peculiar  way)  but  the  life  is  too  cramped,  and  so 
terribly  embittered.  Yes,  I  must  work  out  my  own 
destiny,  be  it  good  or  bad. 

Ah,  there  comes  Bess,  just  from  the  post-office. 

"Come  out,"  she  calls.  "I  have  something  for 
you." 

"The  letter ?"    I  ask  eagerly. 

"Yes,  the  precious  letter,"  she  replies,  handing  it 
to  me. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  strange  writing?  I 
seriously  doubt  your  ability  to  read  it." 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA. 

It  is  peculiar,  but  as  I  answered  most  of  Uncle 
Nelson's  letters,  I  feel  well  versed  in  hieroglyphics. 
This,  however,  is  the  oddest  I  have  ever  seen. 

M ,  Fla.,  Aug.  18,  18—. 

"  MR.  NELSON  KIETH  : 

Dere  Sur — Yo  ablikashun  for  de  M scool  haf 

been  except,  und  de  school  mus'  pegin  mit  Oct.  1st. 
Me  always  vornt  vomans  deacher,  but  de  mans  tink 
dot  vomans  not  manage  dese  pig  poys. 

You  got  vomans  coom  long  mit  you  und  tech 
music,  he  pay  you  mooch  little  moneys. 
Yours   respeckful, 

PETER  SCHNEIDER,  Trustee." 

"What  a  jewel !"  cries  Bess,  clapping  her  hands 
"  How  delighted  he  will  be  to  find  that  you  are 
'vomans.'  Dear  old  fellow,  I  feel  like  embracing 
him!" 

"Wait  till  you  see  him,"  I  return  with  a  laugh. 
''He  may  not  prove  a  pleasant  subject  for  such 
demonstrations.  Then,  again,  his  Frau  might 
object." 

"Why,  this  is  the  10th  of  September,"  says  Bess. 
"  Have  they  any  railroads  in  Florida,  or  is  the  mail 
carried  on  foot?" 

"Not  many,"  I  return,  "but  this  letter  has  prob- 
ably missed  connection.  It  will  not  require  more 
than  a  week  to  make  the  journey.  And  now,  the 
unpleasant  task  of  telling  Uncte  must  be  gotten 
over.  I  know  he  will  fret  but  we  can  endure  any 
thing  with  the  prospect  of  freedom  before  us." 

"  But  he  will  make  our  lives  a  burden,  till  we  go," 
returns  Bess. 

And  he  did.  Weeping,  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth  prevailed.  So  great  was  his  wrath  that,  after 


14  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

belaboring  the  hands,  who  were  entirely  innocent, 
bringing  Aunty  and  Bess  to  tears,  he  positively  re- 
fused to  speak  to  me,  "the  ungrateful  young 
woman  "  he  had  taken  to  his  heart  and  home  in  the 
hour  of  her  distress.  Long  and  furiously  raged  the 

storm;  but,  like  Joey  B 1  am  "tough  sir,  tough, 

ilcrilish  tough,"  so  stood  safe   on  the  good  rock 
Determination,  while  the  angry  waves  of  passion 
swept  o'er  our  troubled  sea. 

Finding  that  his  rage  only  strengthened  my  re- 
solve, he  declared  he  would  wash  his  hands  of  the 
entire  affair,  and  if  I  got  into  serious  trouble  before 
the  winter  ended,  I  need  expect  no  assistance  from 
him. 

Though  we  knew  poor  Auntie  would  miss  us  far 
more  than  Uncle,  she  said  privately  (she  dared  not 
in  his  presence)  that  she  did  not  blame  us  for  going. 

"I  know,"  she  sighed  plaintively,  "it  will  be  sim- 
ply delightful  to  do  and  say  just  what  you  please. 
I  wish  I  were  going  too." 

"  Do  !"  cries  Bess,  "  what  fun  we  would  have  !" 

"Ah!"  returns  Auntie,  your  Uncle  would  never 
forgive  me." 

"  Why  Auntie,"  I  say  to  cheer  her  up  a  little, 
"when  Bess  succeeds  in  captivating  the  charming 
Peter,  you'll  have  to  come  to  the  wedding." 

"Yes,"  laughs  Bess,  "only  think  of  having  real 
orange  blossoms  to  grace  the  affair !  Isn't  it  too 
heavenly  ?" 

"I  may  cut  you  out,"  I  say  teasingly. 

"You  indeed?  who  would  look  at  a  dark  little 
object  like  you,  when  my  pink  and  white  lovelincs 
is  nigh?     No,  sister  mine,  'tis    not    you   1    fear, 
but  a  red    faced    Frau,    and    a  half  dozen  little 
Peters." 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  15 

Time  passes  slowly,  but  it  finally  brings  the  day 
of  our  departure. 

Though  it  may  sound  heartless  to  those  who  wit- 
nessed Auntie's  tears,  and  Uncle's  real  sorrow,  we 
thoroughly  enjoy  our  journey. 

I  am  an  old  stager,  but  Bess,  who  had  never  before 
left  home,  found  every  thing  delightfully  novel. 

At  Jacksonville,  we  had  what  she  termed  "  a  real 
adventure." 

The  train  was  just  starting,  when  two  young 
men,  heavily  loaded  with  sundry  hunting  and  fish- 
ing equipments,  jumped  aboard  and  began  search- 
ing for  seats. 

Bess  and  myself  had  appropriated  entire  seats, 
and  were  just  preparing  to  "  make  ourselves  small," 
when  the  young  fellow  in  advance  of  his  companion 
asked : 

"May  I  share  your  seat,  Madame?" 

"  Certainly."  I  reply.  "  Or,  better  still,  I  will  re- 
turn to  my  sister  and  give  place  to  your  friend." 

Both  gentlemen  bow,  and  thank  me,  then  stow 
themselves  and  belongings  just  in  front  of  us. 

"  Are  they  not  handsome  ?  whispers  Bess. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  answer.  "I  hardly  looked  at 
them." 

"What  a  pity!"  she  exclaims.  "Both  blondes, 
and  the  one  that  spoke  has  the  sweetest  mustache — 
true  gold.  Can't  you  make  him  turn  around?" 

"Why?" 

"So  you  can  see  it."  she  returns  innocently. 

"Very  well,"  I  answer  much  amused.  "Which 
is  he?" 

"The  one  just  opposite  you."  Leaning  forward, 
I  touch  him  with  my  fan.  He  looks  around  inquir- 
ingly. 


16  TWO  LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Hand  me  my  bag,  please." 

"Your  bag?"  he  says  in  a  puzzled  way. 

"  Yes,  my  hand  bag.    It  is  in  the  rack — see  ?" 

I  see  now,  he  is  a  remarkably  handsome  man. 

"Ah,  excuse  my  stupidity,"  he  exclaims,  show- 
ing his  fine  white  teeth. 

"Thank  you."  I  reply,  and  pick  up  my  novel. 
He  turns,  and  begins  conversing  with  his  friend. 

•'  Don't  you  think  so  ?"  asks  my  sister. 

"Yes,"  I  answer.  "Now,  dear  girl,  as  you  will 

see  very  little  of  interest  between  here  and  P ,  I 

would  seriously  advise  a  novel." 

"No,  indeed,"  says  Bess. 

"'The  proper  study  of  wo-mankind  is  man'; 
therefore  I  shall  devote  myself  to  the  two  in  front." 

The  strangers  are  kind,  though  unobtrusive. 

I  incidentally  mention  having  traveled  the  road 
before,  when  one  of  them — he  of  the  hand-bag — 
says  appealingly,  "Then,  you  should  take  us  poor 
innocents  under  your  wing,  for  we  are  *  strangers, 
in  a  strange  land.' ' 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  I  return,  calmly 
clipping  my  magazine  leaves,  "but  I  never  could 
like  Englishmen." 

"  You.  have  no  excuse  ;"  he  laughs. 

"Ah,  that  makes  a  difference.  I  am  partly 
Scotch,  and  love  anything — everything  pertaining  to 
the  dear  old  country — Scotch  songs,  Scotch  legends, 
even  Scotch  dialect  and  Scotch  plaids  !" 

"And  may  one  hope  you  include  Scotch  men?" 
he  inquires  anxiously. 

"How  far  are  you  going?"  I  hear  Bess  ask  the 
other  gentleman. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  returns.  "We  meet  our 
yacht  just  here,"  indicating  some  spot  on  his  rail- 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH  FLORIDA.  17 

road  map,  ''and  will  cruise  around  the   southern 
coast  all  winter." 

"  How  lovely !    So  you  meet  your  yacht  at  P ? 

Isn't  that  where  we  take  the  steamer,  Nel?" 

"Yes,"  I  answer  in  a  non-commital  way,  giving 
her  a  warning  glance ;  for  I  do  not  care  to  discuss 
our  affairs  with  perfect  strangers. 

On  we  go,  passing  little  towns  and  orange  groves, 
pine  trees  and  saw  palmetto.  Now  and  then,  a 
beautiful  "bay-head"  with  large,  moss-draped 
trees,  greets  our  sight ;  and,  as  we  proceed  farther 
south,  an  occasional  cluster  of  cabbage  palms  break 
the  monotony. 

Every  thing  is  oppressively  still— almost  no  sign 
of  life,  save  at  the  little  stations. 

Surely  we  are  going  to  the  unlocated  "jumping 
off  place  of  creation."  As  we  near  our  destination, 
the  stranger  nearest  me  remarks :  "  As  we  shall 
probably  see  more  of  each  other,  suppose  we  intro- 
duce ourselves."  handing  me  his  card. 

" '  Alan  Douglas  Kieth?' '      I  exclaim  in  surprise. 

"  From  Aberdeen  ?" 

"Yes.  Permit  me  to  introduce  my  friend:  Ken- 
neth Lindsey,  Miss ." 

"Kieth,"  I  return  coldly.  "My  sister,  Miss  Bessie 
Kieth,  Mr.  Kieth;  Mr.  Lindsey." 

"Can  it  be"  exclaims  Bess,  "that  we  are 
cousins  ?" 

"  Let  us  hope  so,"  returns  Mr.  Kieth  with  a  smile. 

"  Ah  here  we  are,  at  last,"  as  the  train  stopped  at 
the  miserable  apology  for  a  depot. 

"  Can  we  assist  you  ?" 

"Thank  you;"  I  reply  freezingly  "the  conductor 
will  assist  us.  Conductor/'  as  that  official  passes, 
"  You  will  help  us  oft  ;"' 


18  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Certainly,,  ma'am,"  he  answers  politely,  "cer- 
tainly. I  thought  you  were  all  one  party,"  he 
gathers  our  numerous  packages  and  escorts  us  to 
the  only  hotel  in  P . 

"Why  were  you  so  rude  to  those  delightful 
Scotchmen?"  asks  Bess,  as  we  wash  our  blackened 
faces. 

"  Why  you  little  goose,  do  you  not  know  that  he 
is  our  mean  Scotch  cousin?  He  is  Alan  Douglas 
Kieth  of  Aberdeen." 

"  Oh,  1  had  not  thought  of  that !  Well,  they  are 
awfully  nice,  and  I  am  glad  we  did  not  discover  the 
relationship  sooner." 

We  enter  the  dining-room,  and  are  shown  to  the 
same  table  at  which  are  seated  the  now  obnoxious 
Scotchmen.  They  look  annoyed,  though  amused." 

"We  seem  fated  to  meet,"  remarks  my  cousin, 
rising  to  withdraw.  "But,  as  this  is  the  only 
hotel " 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence."     I  interrupt  coldly. 

"Have  I  offended  in  any  way?"  he  asks  politely. 

"  You  should  be  most  likely  to  know,"  I  answer 
more  frigidly,  becoming  much  absorbed  in  my  sup- 
per. 

"Really,  Miss  Kieth,  it  is  unjust  to  condemn 
without  a  hearing." 

"Unjust!"  1  cry  indignantly.  You  call  me  un- 
just?" 

"I  fail  to  see  the  necessity  for  such  sarcasm,"  he 
says,  with  much  dignity. 

"Then,  drop  the  subject,"  I  reply,  "and  oblige 
me  by  forgetting  we  ever  met." 

"When  ladies  command,  there  is  but  one  course 
for  gentlemen/'  he  answers,  quitting  the  room, 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"  There's  nothing  in  a 

F?ARLY  next  morning  we  are  aroused  with  the 
f~L  information,  "  Your  boat  is  nigh  about  ready 
ter  start,  ma'am." 

"  Very  well ;  "  I  return  as  I  spring  from  my  bed. 
"  we  will  breakfast  on  board.  Return  in  ten  min- 
utes, for  our  baggage." 

Dressing  hurriedly,  we  pay  our  bill,  then  follow 
the  porter  to  the  end  of  a  long  wooden  pier.  He  had 
just  assisted  us  aboard  of  a  beautiful  little  naphtha 
launch,  when,  to  my  disgust,  Mr.  Kieth  appears,  po- 
lite surprise,  not  unmixed  with  amusement,  depicted 
on  his  handsome  face. 

"  I've  brought  your  ladies,  at  last,  sir,"  says  the 
obsequious  servant. 

"  Is  this  the  steamer  for  M ?  "  I  ask,  over- 
powered by  a  sickening  certainty  of  our  blunder. 

"  No,  ma'am.  There  she  lies,"  pointing  to  a  small, 
ungraceful  propeller,  "  Leaves  at  six  o'clock." 

"  Then,"  I  contiued  indignantly,  "  you  have  blun- 
dered unpardonably  !  Convey  our  luggage  aboard 
—we  will  breakfast  at  the  hotel." 

"  Im  sorry,  Miss,  I  thought  'twas  all  one  party. 
The  name  you  know — 

"  Go  !  "  I  exclaim,  wrathfully. 

"Believe  me,  Miss  Kieth,"  begins  my  enemy,  "  I 
regret  exceedinsrlv " 


20  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"  Tis  nothing,"  I  interrupt,  "  I  am  justly  provoked 
at  losing  my  beauty  sleep.  Come  Bess." 

"  But,  having  been  roused  at  this  ungodly  hour, 
will  you  not  share  our  breakfast?  We  are  jm; ', 
crossing  to  the  yacht." 

"What  a  beauty  !"  exclaims  Bess,  gazing  with 
admiration  to  where  the  graceful  vessel  lay  anchored 
in  deep  water. 

"  Do  say  yes,  Nel !  " 

"  Eat  my  enemy's  salt  ?  "  I  cry. 

"  Your  enemy  ?  "  he  repeats,  in  seeming  amaze. 
"You  speak  in  parables.  How,  when,  and  where 
have  I  injured  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  we  are  very  innocent,  too  innocent  !  "  I 
reply  scornfully,  and  placing  my  hand  through 
Be'ssie's  arm,  walk  her  back  to  the  hotel. 

"  By  all  that  is  mysterious  I "  I  hear  him  mutter, 
"  what  can  she  mean  ?  " 

"You  know,  Nel,"  says  Bess,  "I  cannot  think  him 
so  mean.  He  does  not  look  a  bit  stingy  ;  now,  does 
he?" 

"No,"  I  confess,  grudgingly.  "He  really  has  a 
fine  face."  ' 

"  Then  why  not  treat  him  decently  ?  He  might 
fall  in  love  with  one  of  us,  and  then  we  would  get 
back  the  money." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  forgive  that  unmanly  let- 
ter? No  !  if  he  begged  me  on  his  knees  to  accept 
half  of  the  fortune  I  would  spurn  it !  " 

"Himself  included  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  " 

"  You  will  never  get  a  handsomer  man,"  warn- 
ingly. 

"Wait,"  I  laugh  "till  he  makes  the  munificent 
offer.  We  probably,  have  seen  the  last  of  him.'' 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  21 

We  spend  the  day  upon  the  "  Okeechobee,"  and 
towards  evening  arrive  at  our  destination.  It  is  a 
straggling  village  of  about  fifty  houses,  charmingly 
situated  on  the  river  C .  The  first  person  I  no- 
tice upon  the  wharf,  is  a  little  blond  man,  whose 
long  bushy,  red  beard,  and  loud,  commanding 
voice  are  calculated  to  attract  attention.  "  That,"  I 
remark  to  Bess,  "  is  our  Peter.  I  know  his  accent." 

"Now  for  some  fun, ".she  laughs.  On  he  jumps, 
true  sailor  fashion,  and  inquires  loudly  for  "a 
young  feller  mit  the  name  of  Kiet  ?" 

Stepping  forward,  closely  followed  by  my  laugh- 
ing sister,  I  remark  coolly:  "I  am  Nelson  Kieth. 
Are  you  Mr.  Peter  Schneider,  trustee  for  M ?" 

"I"  with  a  proud  toss  of  his  head,  "is  Captain 
Peter  Schneider.  But  you — I  tought  you  was  mans  ! 
Veil,  veil,  me  glad ;  vomans,  me  like  petter — mooch 
petter  !"  with  a  delighted  smile. 

"I  was  named  for  an  uncle;  I  explain,  "finding 
you  really  prefered  a  lady,  I  decided  to  come.  If, 
however,  I  fail  to  conduct  the  school  to  your  satis- 
faction, I  will  leave •" 

"No,  you  doand !"  he  exclaims.  "Me  like  you 
mooch,  already.  You  got  pooty  cheek — you  do  ! 
Dis  my  town,  dis  my  school — 1  haf  vomans  teacher 
if  I  vont  him.  Mans  too  mooch  rough,  he  teach 
gearls  nottings  bout  dress,  en  how  make  goot 
vomans  bime  by.  Now,  den,  you  see?" 

"  Yes.'!  I  answer,  much  amused.  "Let  me  intro- 
duce my  sister." 

"Vot!"  he  cries,  "Two  vomans?  Goot!  Mans, 
ve  got  blenty ;  vomans,  too  little  bit !" 

"  Well,  Captain  Schneider,  have  you  secured  us  a 
good  boarding  place  ?" 

"  Vy,  you  see,"  looking  puzzled,  "me  tought  you 


22  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

was  mans,  en  would  bach  mit  me,  in  my  house. 
Boardin'  house,  we  not  got  him — oh  me  got  him  ! 
I  tek  you  to  Mees  Keyson.  Se  do  every  tings  f  or 
iu<\  I  petter  varn  you  dough,  bout  Mees  Keyson — 
se  vot  you  call  jalous.  Se  not  like  vomans  talk  too 
mooch  to  her  mans.  See  ? 

"Thank  you,"  I  return  as  gravely  as  possible. 
"We  shall  be  careful." 

Most  of  the  houses  are  small,  rough  buildings, 
surrounded  by  a  luxurious  tropical  growth. 

"Wight  over  dare,"  say  the  voluble  Peter,  "ish 
de  school-house."  We  look,  and  behold  a  neatly 
painted  two  story  building  shaded  by  grand  moss 
draped  oaks. 

"  Why,  Captain,"  I  say  in  surprise,  have  I  so 
many  pupils  ?" 

"  Veil,  not  just  yet;  but  de  geographical  sitiva- 
tion  ob  de  town  is  bound  to  increase  de  poperlation  ! 
Wid  dis  fine  river  communication,  dis  splendid 
splendid  climate,  and  my  boat  to  tek  de  passengers, 
dis  place  is  boun'  to  be  de  greatest  helt  resort  in  de 
State." 

The  warmer  he  waxes,  the  louder  and  higher  be- 
comes his  voice. 

"  So,  'twas  your  boat  we  came  on  ?"  asks  Bess. 
"  Are  you  her  Captain  ?" 

"Yes.  I  des  lay  off  dis  trip  to  fix  de  school  house 
for  Monday.  No  odder  mans  in  de  place  " — proudly 
—"could  put  dot  organ  to  pieces  already." 

"  So  you  have  an  organ  in  school !"  I  cry  delight- 
edly. 

"I  mooch  glad  you  blay.  Music,  I  lofe  him!  he 
fill  me  oop  so  mooch  dot  I  can  eat  nottings  !  He 
make  me  happy  dill  I  hurt,  an  I  gry  blenty  tears  !" 

"Do  you  play?"  1  as1;,  deeply  interested. 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  23 

"  Zome   times — ven    I    all    lone    by    mine    zelf . 

Neffer,    I  blay   for  no   boddies dare    ish    mine 

house,"  pointing  to  a  neat  three-roomed  cottage, 
i  i  most  hidden  by  the  large  orange  trees  about  it. 

"We  thought,"  says  Bess,  with  a  laugh,  "that 
you  were  married  and  had  a  large  family." 

"No,"  he  says,  a  look  of  sadness  creeping  over 
his  jolly  old  face.  "  Vomans  ish  not  for  me.  Me 
got  little  dog,"  stooping  to  caress  the  little  black 
and  tan  that  trotted  affectionately  by  his  side. 

Finally,  we  reach  a  double  pen  log  cabin,  where 
Mrs.  Keyson,  a  tall  ungainly  woman,  after  listen- 
ing in  stolid  silence  to  the  captain's  request,  "reek- 
ins  "  she  can  take  us. 

"  Den,"  says  Peter,  "  I  vill  be  up  after  supper. 
"  You  kin  stay  ef  you're  a  mind  ter  remarks  our 
hostess  indifferently.  "I've  a  big  pan  of  clabber 
fer  supper." 

Clabber  was  evidently  an  attraction,  for  the 
trustee  resumed  his  seat. 

We  repair  to  the  "gallery"  and  he  entertains  us 
with  his  funny  talk  about  "  my  town,  my  boat,  my 
school,"  etc.  But  he  is  well  informed  despite  his 
peculiar  pronunciation,  and  great  admiration  of  the 
personal  pronoun.  How  came  he,  I  wonder,  in  this 
out  of  the  way  settlement,  trying  to  civilize  a  lot  of 
"crackers?" 

He  informs  us  that  he  had,  ten  years  ago,  home- 
steaded  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres,  the  very  land 

011  which  M now  stands ;  laid  out  the  "  city," 

giving  away  every  alternate  lot  to  "  increase  de 
poperlation ;  "  built  the  school-house,  which  was 
used  also  for  church  purposes  ;  ran  the  only  steam- 
boat and  owned  the  only  store  in  the  settlement. 

"  Vere  ish  de  poys  ?  "  he  asks  as  we  begin  supper. 


24  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"  In  the  woods,"  answers  Mrs.  Keyson. 

"  In  the  woods  ?  "  asks  Bess,  bewildered. 

"  Yes,  gathering  cattle  for  shipment."  She  ac- 
cents the  last  syllable. 

"  Have  you  much  cattle  ?  I  didn't  know  this  was 
a  grazing  country." 

"Yes,  there's  right  smart  about  here.  Our  stock 
is  only  sixty  thousand,  but  old  Jedge  Simmons  has 
a  hundred  an'  fifty  thousand." 

Surely,  I  think,  the  owner  of  so  much  cattle  can 
afford  a  better  house  than  this. 

"  When,"  I  ask,  "  will  your  husband  return  ?  " 

"To-morrow,  may  be.  The  boys  'lowed  they'd 
try  the  new  teacher  a  while — but  I  don't  know  as 
they'll  keer  to  go  to  you,  bein'  as  you're  a  women.' 

This  is  hardly  encouraging,  but  I  determine  to  be 
brave. 

"  Captain,"  I  say,  inspired  with  a  happy  thought, 
"  have  you  ever  studied  English  from  text  books  ?  " 

"  No,  your  ladyship.  I  haf  neffer  got  von  goot 
teacher." 

"  Then,"  I  beg,  "  let  me  teach  you — perhaps  the 
pupils  will  look  with  more  respect  on  a  woman  that 
instructs  their  trustee." 

"  Vot  schmart  litle  dings  se  ish  !  "  he  cries  with  a 
laugh.  "  Me  neffer  tinks  of  him.  Alride,  ve  pegins 
mit  Monday  nights." 

"Thank  you  so  much." 

'•  No,  me  tanks  you,"  he  returns  gallantly. 

The  next  afternoon,  about  two  o'clock,  we  hear  a 
loud  popping  of  whips,  and  weird  peculiar  cries 
which  Mrs.  Keyson  informs  us  in  the  "  cow  holler." 
She  says  if  we. remain  on  the  "gallery,"  we'll  see  a 
"likely  bunch  of  cattle  pass." 

We  waited.     I  confess  my  first  sight  of  Florida 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  25 

cattle  was  disappointing.  Compared  with  Western 
stock  they  are  no  larger  than  calves  ;  but,  remem- 
bering that  "  silence  is  golden,"  I  hold  my  tongue. 

A  few  minutes  later  three  men  and  a  boy  strode 
through  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Mrs.  Keyson  !  "  I  call,  "  some  one  wishes  to  see 
you." 

"It's  only  Pa  an' the  boys,"  she  returns  calmly, 
opening  her  door. 

"  Well,  Pa,"  she  remarks  as  she  enters  the  dining 
room  where  the  new  comers  sit  around  the  empty 
table. 

"  Well  Ma,"  he  returns,  without  moving.  Not  the 
slightest  caress  or  hand  shake  passes  between  them. 
Of  course  I  should  not  have  looked,  but  curiosity 
overcame  manners. 

"Ma,"  yells  the  boy,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "for 
goodness  sake  hurry  with  the  grub  !  We  aint  had  a 
mouthful  since  daylight." 

"  Any  news,  Ma  ?  "  asks  another. 

"Nothin',"  she  replies,  as  she  leisurely  places  the 
cold  food  before  them,  "  'cept  the  teacher's  come." 

"Well  I  say  it !  When  did  he  come  ?  Is  he  old 
or  young  ?  Does  he  look  cross  ?  "  are  some  of  the 
questions  that  burst  from  them. 

Truly,  eavesdroppers  never  hear  good  of  them- 
selves; Ma  utterly  crushed  me  by  replying  scornfully, 
"  She  aint  nuthin'  but  a  girl — no  bigger  than  Syd," 
pointing  to  the  boy.  "An*  she's  stayin'  here  fer  the 
present,  till  the  ole  Captain  can  make  some  other 
arrangement.  She  an'  her  sister  air  on  the  gallery. 
I'll  call  'em  in  if  you  want  to  see  her." 

She  starts  after  us,  but  "  Pa"  remarks  that  they 
had  better  "  clean "  themselves  up  a  little  before 
meeting  strangers. 


26  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

We  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  so  do  not  meet  them  till 
supper. 

"  Pa  "  is  a  fine  looking  man,  with  kind,  intelligent 
r^rey  eyes ;  his  manners  are  almost  courtly.  Frank, 
the  oldest  son,  greatly  resembles  him.  George  and 
Syd  are  more  like  their  mother. 

Evidently,  "  Pa  "  had  married  beneath  him. 

I  discovered  later,  that  Mr.  Keyson  had  been  State 
Senator,  paid  frequent  visits  to  the  outer  world,  and, 
after  "  de  Captain,"  was  the  leading  man  of  M . 

The  boys  had  been  sent  to  college,  but  "  Ma " 
grieved  so  terribly  after  them,  that  they  would  not 
return,  after  the  first  term. 

Pa  took  a  number  of  papers  and  magazines,  both 
Frank  and  himself  keeping  up  with  current  events; 
but  the  other  boys,  though  naturally  bright,  knew 
almost  nothing  but  cattle. 


CHAPTER  V. 


"The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own."— Scott. 

MONDAY  morning,  much  to  my  surprise,  I  find 
a  number  of  grown  boys  in  the  schoolroom ; 
for  Captain  Peter  had  reported  that,  finding  me 
such  a  learned  woman,  even  he  should  become  my 
pupil.  This  kind  deception  had  the  desired  effect, 
and  my  school  was  unusually  large  ;  so  large,  in 
fact,  that  Peter  delights  Bess  by  proposing  that  she 
become  assistant,  "  mit  de  zalarits  ob  dwenty-vive 
tollars  a  mont." 

Teaching,  even  under  favorable  circumstances,  is 
not  easy ;  but,  when  both  pupils  .and  parents  are 
ignorant  and  uncouth,  it  becomes  laborious. 

The  boys  could  see  no  impropriety ,  in  appearing 
in  their  shirt-sleeves,  neither  could  I  convince  my 
girls  that  bare  feet  and  untidy  dresses  were  unlady- 
like. At  length,  in  desperation,  I  wrote  a  list  of 
things  to  be  avoided,  and  offered  a  prize  for  "  gen- 
teel manners." 

We  had  been  with  Mrs.  Keyson  two  weeks,  when 
the  Captain  asked  if  we  should  like  to  keep  house. 
Mrs.  Keyson  positively  refused  to  take  us  as  board- 
ers, and  we  could  scarcely  accept  her  hospitality  a'l 
winter. 

"I  should  be  charmed,"  I  return,  "but  where  is 
the  house  and  furniture  ?  I  have  not  seen  even  a 
room  to  let." 


28  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"  You  haf  mine  house,"  he  returns  with  a  broad 
smile. 

"  But  I  could  not  think  of  turning  you  out  of  house 
and  home." 

"  Dot  ish  nottings.  Ven  I  stay  ofer,  me  sleep  mit 
de  store." 

"But  all  of  your  things?  What  will  become  of 
them  ?  " 

"  De  pooks,  de  organ  und  de  vurniture  me  lef  mit 
you.  Mine  oder  traps  me  stow  away  mit  de 
schmoke-house.  Coom,  I  lofe  you  mooch;  you  haf 
mine  house." 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  good  man !  How  can  I  thank 
you  ?  " 

"  It  ish  nottings,"  with  a  little  shrug.  "  You  hap- 
py, den  I  happy.  See  ?  " 

So  we  were  soon  in  possession  of  his  cottage ;  Bess 
installed  as  cook,  and  de  Captain  our  chief  slave. 
The  change  was  delightful,  and  our  house  soon  be- 
came the  rendezvous  for  all  music  lovers  in  the 
neighborhood.  Old  and  young,  rich  and  poor,  mar- 
ried and  single,  "  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men," 
invaded  the  house. 

De  Captain,  who  is  absent  three  evenings  of  each 
week,  joins  us  when  in  port. 

I  had  never  yet  heard  him  perform,  though  I  know, 
from  his  rapt  expression  when  I  play,  that  he  is 
a  thorough  musician.  One  evening  he  is  begged  for 
music,  but  declines  to  play. 

"You  ask  him,  Miss  Kieth,"  says  Mr.  Keyson,  "I 
know  he  will  oblige  you" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  "I  return  coldly,  "How- 
ever, I  can  but  fail." 

Crossing  the  room,  I  say  :  "  Captain  will  you  play 
for  me  ?  I  am  so  anxious  to  hear  you.  Come, 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  29 

please."  I  must  confess,  he  startled  me.  Springing 
up,  he  grasped  my  hand,  crying  excitedly,  "  Me  blay 
for  you  ?  Yes,  me  go  to  hell  for  you  !  "  then  rush- 
ing to  the  organ,  his  fingers  bring  forth  such  deep, 
rolling  thunders  that  we  almost  feel  the  house 
shake ;  by  degrees  they  die  away,  giving  place  to  a 
sad,  pathetic  wail,  so  exquisitely  beautiful  that  it 
thrills  my  very  soul.  'Twas  so  sad,  so  appealing, 
the  tears  would  come  ;  yet  so  wonderfully  sweet  I 
was  almost  sorry  when  he  gave  a  brilliant  triumphal 
finale. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "   I  ask,  I  never  heard  it  before.'' 

"Mine  life,"  he  answers;  as,  without  a  "good- 
night," he  departs. 

Time  passes  rapidly.  Our  school  improves,  our 
patrons  admire  us  greatly,  and  the  neighborhood  re- 
gards us  as  queens. 

My  only  distress  is  de  Captain  ;  he  has  fallen  mad- 
ly hi  love  with  my  unworthy  self,  and  makes  no 
effort  to  conceal  his  infatuation.  He  tells  me  openly 
he  "  lofes  "  me,  but  asks  only  for  friendship. 

He  is  awfully  good  to  us,  and — what  can  I  do  ?  If 
he  was  not  so  childishly  sensitive,  so  painfully  jeal- 
ous, it  would  be  amusing. 

Bess  enjoys  my  discomfiture  immensely,  and  de- 
clares it  serves  me  right  for  cutting  her  out. 

"  Nothing  happens  save  the  unforeseen,"  and!  en- 
dorse the  proverb,  when,  towards  the  end  of  Octo- 
ber, de  Captain  brings  our  obnoxious  fellow  travel- 
ers to  visit  us. 

"Deyvos  f om  de  Jupean  nations,"  he  explains, 
"  und  I  pring  him  long  to  hear  some  little  music. 
You  don't  gare  ?  Eh  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  I  return,  bowing  coldly  to  my 
unwelcome  guests. 


30  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"I  am  sorry,  Miss  Kieth,"  begins  my  foe,  "  I  had 
no  idea,  upon  my  honor,  that  you  were  the  angelic 
creature  we  were  invited  to  see." 

"Thank  you.  I  have  never  laid  claims  to  such 
perfection,  and  can  readily  understand  your  look  of 
bewildered  disappointment." 

"  Don't  be  rough  on  a  fellow,"  he  pleads.  "  Is  my 
presence  really  disagreeable  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  your  hostess." 

"  Shall  I  go  or  stay  ?" 

"As  you  like,"  indifferently. 

"Oh,  Mees  Nelsonn,  "calls  our  Peter,  "Ivos 
hongry  for  von  leetle  song — vill  you  me  make 
happy?" 

Inwardly  blessing  Peter  for  this  timely  interrup- 
tion, I  rise  and  cross  the  room. 

"Dot  young  mans,"  he  whispers,  finding  me  a 
song,  "  you  know  him  before — you  lofe  him?  ' 

"No,  I  hate  him!" 

"  You  hate  him?  Goot,"  a  ring  of  determination 
in  his  voice,  "  Me  kill  him  for  you." 

"No,  don't  hurt  him  !  '  I  cry  in  alarm.  "I  never 
saw  him  but  once  before — he  is  less  than  nothing  to 
me." 

"Den,  how  you  hate  him?"  eying  me  sus- 
piciously. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean — but  listen,  this  is  your  favor- 
ite." And  I  throw  my  whole  soul  into  the  deep 
thrilling  notes  of  "  Love's  Sorrow." 

One  piece  follows  another,  but  de  Captain  stands 
.  guard  and  monopolizes  me  the  whole  evening. 

Bess  holds  a  little  court  at  the  other  end  of  tho 
room,  and  I  see  the  young  Scotchman  is  quite  de- 
voted. 

Mr.  Kieth  seats  himself  at  the  organ,  plays  alight 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  31 

running  accompaniment,    and    catching    my  eye, 
sings : 

"  How  can  you  treat  me  so  ? 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 
Do  you  think  me  still  a  foe  ? 
Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  I 

To  all  others  you  are  sweet, 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 
But  I  am  dust  beneath  your  feet, 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 

Do  JTOU  think  such  treatment  just  ? 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 
Why  turn,  with  such  disgust  ? 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 

Come,  can  we  not  be  friends  ? 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  ! 
On  you  it  all  depends, 

Lady  fair  !  lady  fair  1" 

His  voice  is  a  rich,  deep  barytone — wonderfully 
attractive.  I  listen  in  spite  of  myself.  I  know  he 
sings  to  me,  and  resent  the  mean  advantage  he 
takes,  though  I  listen  with  pleasure  to  his  voice. 

"Captain,"!  say,  in  an  undertone,  " say  good- 
night, please.  The  others  will  follow  you — I  am  so 
tired." 

"Good-night,"  says  my  enemy,  extending  his 
hand. 

"Good-night,"  I  return,  my  own  clasped  behind 
me. 

"  May  I  come  again  ?  " 

"  My  rooms  are  open  to  the  public." 

"Will  you  care  to  see  me  ?  " 

"No,"  coldly. 

"  Then,"  in  a  hurt  tone,  "  I  shall  not  intrude." 
-  "  As  you  like,"  I  return  calmly. 

Bess  grumbled  greatly  at  my  "unchristian  con- 
duct." 

" The v  are   so   handsome,"  she  exclaimed,  "and 


32  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

have  such  a  lovely  yacht,  and  Mr.  Lindsey  said 
they'd  be  just  charmed  to  take  us  on  a  cruise  down 
the  coast — but  of  course  you  won't  go.  I  think  it's 
just  hateful  of  you  Nel !  " 

"  I  thought  you  had  more  spirit.  Accept  their 
hospitality,  indeed !  " 

"  Spirit  or  no  spirit,"  she  says  with  a  regretful 
sigh,  "  'twould  be  lots  of  fun." 

But  "  pride  goeth  before  a  fall,"  and  the  very  next 
day,  I  was  compelled  to  accept  assistance  from  my 
hated  foe. 

1  had  noticed  a  cluster  of  orange  blossoms  near 
the  top  of  a  large  tree  in  the  back  yard ;  and  know- 
ing that  seeing  it  only,  could  convince  Uncle  of  this 
freak  of  nature,  determined  to  mail  it  that  night. 

Bess  holds  the  ladder,  while  I,  scissors  in  hand, 
mount  to  the  tree  top.  Slowly  and  painfully  I  make 
my  way ;  at  last,  torn  and  bleeding  I  secure  the 
prize,  then  begin  the  descent.  Imagine  my  horror 
to  find  both  Bessie  and  ladder  gone  ! 

Loud  and  long  I  call,  but  all  in  vain. 

At  last,  the  situation  becomes  monotonous,  and 
raising  my  voice,  which  is  by  no  means  weak,  I 
scream : 

"Help!  Help!"  A  man  is  passing,  whistling 
merrily.  I  give  another  wild  yell.  He  leaps  the 
fence  and  looks  around.  Yell  number  three  brings, 
him  to  my  novel  prison. 

"  How  can  I  assist  you  ?  "  he  asks  politely. 

I  peep  through  the  leaves  ;  how  disgusting  !  It  is 
my  horrid  Scotch  cousin. 

"  By  helping  me  down,  of  course  !  "  I  exclaim  un- 
graciously. "There's  a  ladder  somewhere — Bess 
knows  where  it  is." 

He  searches  diligently,  but  can  find  neither.   Twas. 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  33 

unkind  of  Bess  to  treat  me  so ;  and  so  mortifying  to 
be  dependent  on  that  man. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  jump/'  he  says. 

Making  the  best  of  circumstances,  I  throw  my 
basket  and  scissors  to  the  ground,  gather  my  skirts 
close,  and  take  a  flying  leap  straight  into  the  arms 
of  the  enemy, 

"  How  romantic  ! "  laughs  my  naughty  sister,  mis- 
chievously regarding  us  from  the  kitchen  door. 
'•My  happy  thought  has  produced  a  charming 
tableau. 

"  Practical  jokes/'  I  cry,  regaining  my  feet,  "are 
detestable !  " 

"Now  do  not  be  cross,  sister  mine,  but  invite 
your  noble  preserver  to  supper;  it  is  just 
ready." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  I  ask  politely. 

"  I  will  excuse  your  doing  penance,"  he  replies, 
leaping  the  fence. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


"  Bachelors  are  providential  beings  ;   God  created  them  for  the  conso- 
lation of  widows  and  the  hope  of  maids." — De  Finod. 

BUT  what  about  school?" 
"  De  school,  he  gan  vait,"  returns  our  trustee 
decidedly. 

"  Won't  the  patrons  object  ?  "  I  ask  with  hesita- 
tion. 

De  Captain  actually  grows  purple  with  rage  ;  his 
whole  body  swells  with  pride  as  he  replies :  "  De 
padrons  ish  iiottings.  Dot  ish  my  school — I  do  vot 
I  please  mit  de  school !  I  say  he  close  mit  Vinsday, 
for  tank-giffin  day,  und  not  open  no  more  till  de 
nex'  Monday.  Dare  now,  you  satisfy  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  are  sure  it  is  all  right." 

"  Den  you  mit  me  vill  go  ?  " 

"With  pleasure.    Who  comprises  the  party  ? " 

"Veil,  you  see,"  counting  011  his  fingers,  "  dare 
ish  de  two  Jupean  fellers,  und  you  two  gearls,  und 
de  Keyson  poys,  und  Mees  Marta  Clarke,  und  de 
Lang  gearls.  Ish  dere  enny  pody  else  you  vonts  ?" 

"No  ;  but  you  have  no  chaperon." 

"  Chopperont  ?    Vot  ish  he  ?" 

"A  married  lady,  to  keep  us  in  order,  you 
know." 

"Dot  ish  no  goot !    Olt  vomans  rada  stay  home. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  35 

Ve  not  do  iiottings  bad ;  vy  must  we  be  votched  ? 
Eh  ?  " 

"  Is  it  not  customary  down  here  ?  " 

"  No  inteet !  dey  vill  dinks  you  crazy  to  dake  olt 
marrit  vomans." 

"Very  well,"  I  return,  only  half  satisfied,  "but  I 
wish  you  could  persuade  Mrs.  Keyson  to  join  us." 

"Se  shall,  if  you  vornt  him.  Me  go  wight  now 
und  see  him." 

The  excursion  we  have  been  discussing  is  to  the 
phosphate  works,  and  some  of  the  lovely  islands 
down  the  coast. 

The  Captain  has  made  up  this  party  solely  for  my 
enjoyment,  and  I  appreciate  his  kindness;  but — 
those  Scotchmen !  I  seem  to  meet  them  every 
where.  How  I  wish  they  would  leave.  Only  think 
of  pic-nicing  three  days  with  them;  really,  it  is  too 
vexatious !  In  spite  of  all  my  lectures,  Bess  will 
flirt  with  Kenneth  Liiidsey.  I  can  hardly  blame 
her,  for  he  is  so  polished  and  gentlemanly,  so  differ- 
ent from  these  rough  cowboys — but  then,  I  am  sure 
there  is  some  understanding  between  young  King 
and  herself.  She  should  not  receive  long  love- 
letters  from  one  man,  and  openly  encourage  an- 
other. Kenneth  is  a  bonny  lad ;  I  like  him  notwith- 
standing his  warm  friendship  for  my  enemy,  and 
would  be  sorry  for  him  to  come  to  grief. 

Ah,  there  they  come  now ;  he  carrying  her  basket 
of  ferns,  their  hats  and  clothing  profusely  decorated 
with  wild-flowers. 

"May  I  come  in,  Miss  Kieth?"he  calls,  as  they 
reach  the  gate.  "I  have  something  for  you." 

"What  is  it?"  I  ask. 

"  A  billet  cloux,  I  suppose,"  handing  me  a  note. 

•'Very  likely,"  I  return,  opening  it. 


36  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Miss  KIETH: 

Our  nautical  friend  has  invited  me  to  attend 
your  Thanksgiving  excursion.  Now,  tell  me  plainly, 
will  my  presence  be  distasteful  ?  Can  invent  some 
excuse,  if  necessary.  Yours  truly, 

ALAN  D.  KIETH." 

"Tell  him "  I  begin. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  be  utterly  demolished ?"cries 
Kenneth  in  terror. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  ' Lady  fair,'  if  I  return  without  some  mis- 
sive, penned  by  thy  dear  hand,  he'll  fall  upon  me, 
tooth  and  nail,  and  I  greatly  doubt  any  remains  be- 
ing left  for  Christian  burial." 

"Here,'  says  Bess,  tossing  me  a  magnolia  grande- 
flora,  "answer  on  this." 

Breaking  off  a  petal,  I  trace  with  a  pin,  "  Go,  if 
you  like."  For,  of  course,  I  must  not  be  out  done 
in  generosity. 

"Thanks,  awfully,"  says  Kenneth.  "My  noble 
friend  has  something  on  his  mind.  I  hope  this  will 
prove  a  nervine." 

"Let  us  hope  so,"  laughs  Bess.  "Miss  Kieth," 
continues  Kenneth,  "I  would  give  a  great  deal  to 
know  why  you  hate  poor  Alan.  Why,  he  is  the 
best  fellow  in  the  world.  I  have  known  him  since 
we  were  children,  and"  enthusiastically,  "would 
stake  my  honor  on  his  character  !  He  could  not  do 
a  little  thing,  and  he  is  generous  to  a  fault ' 

"Generous?"  I  repeat  scornfully.  "We  must 
agree  to  differ." 

"  That  is  because  you  do  not  know  him ;  have 
never  seen  him  rise  superior  to  trial  and  temptation. 
Oh  you  would  love  him — 


A  TALE  OP  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  37 

"  'Tis  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished," 
quotes  Bess  with  a  wicked  laugh. 

"Really,  Miss  Kieth,"  continues  Kenneth,  elo- 
quent in  his  friend's  service,  "it  hurts  him  to  be 
treated  so  unmercifully.  What  has  he  done?" 

"Mr.  Kieth  can  explain  more  satisfactorily." 

"He  says  not." 

"  Nonsense  !  Suppose  we  discuss  another  topic. 
Have  you  caught  many  fish  to-day  ?" 

"Yes;  200  Ibs.  in  two  hours." 

"Ah!  Jack  fish,  I  suppose." 

"Yes;  do  you  like  them?" 

"They  are  too  coarse."  says  Bess. 

"  You  prefer  small  fry  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  they  are  much  sweeter." 

"  Yes,"  with  an  admiring  glance  at  her  own  small 
person. 

"Little  things  usually  are." 

"That  depends,"  she  returns  wisely.  "Mos- 
quitoes and  sand-flies  are  both  very  small — do  you 
find  them  sweet  ?" 

"  They  certainly  give  us  a  warmer  reception  than 
you  do,"  reproachfully. 

"Never,  before,  have  1  been  advised  to  imitate 
the  mosquito!"  cries  my  indignant  sister.  "We 
have  been  admonished  all  our  lives  to  go  to  the  ant 
for  wisdom,  but  to  learn  hospitality  from  a  mos- 
quito, is  too — biting  a  sarcasm  !" 

"  Oh,  now,  Miss  Bessie,  that's  too  hard,"  he 
laughs. 

"  I  thought  you  wanted — why  here  comes  our 
Peter,  puffing  and  blowing  like  his  own  little  steam- 
boat. "  What's  up  now  ?" 

He  is  certainly  nmking  port  under  full  sail.  The 
dear  fellow  has  walked  so  rapidl}-  that  his  naturally 


38  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

fair  complexion  is  quite  as  fiery  as  his  beard.  Every 
pore  is  dripping  with  perspiration,  hut  a  smile  of 
-riiimph  illumines  his  glowing  face,  as,  waving  his 
little  cane  frantically  in  the  air,  he  cal]^  joyfully, 
"  Me  got  her ;  se  alride  !  " 

"  Hath  much  learning  made  him  mad  ?"  questions 
Bess. 

"At  any  rate,"  says  Kenneth,  "there's  method 
in  his  madness ;  don't  you  see  he  addresses  Miss 
Kieth  ?  Now,  as  ever,  his  eye  seeks  her's  alone. 
She,  seemingly,  comprehends  his  ravings.  Mark 
the  mathematical  precision  with  which  he  ignores 
our  august  presence  !  Is  it  not  galling  to  our  sensi- 
tive pride  ?  Come,  let  us  fly  from  his  awful  pres- 
ence !" 

"No  thank  you,  I  am  anxious  to  learn  whom  he 
has  got,  and  what  he  is  to  do  with  her." 

"  Well,  Captain,"'!  ask,  "did  she  consent?" 

"  Yas,  se  alride — den  ve  vill  start  to-morrow  mor- 
nint,  early  mit  de  day — boud  zix  o'clock  ?  " 

"Very  well.    Now,  how  about  our  baskets — 

"Dot  ishnottings.  I  haf  cook;  he  doeffery  dings 
ve  vant.  Effry  feller  dake  his  own  bar;  me  look 
after  de  rest." 

"You  are  ever  so  good,  Captain,  I  know  we'll 
have  a  jolly  time." 

"  Dot  ish  goot !  You  gay  und  happy,  den  I  sholly , 
mooch ;  you  sadt  und  lonesom,  den  Iliaf  mooch  bad 
veelins — me  gry  mine  eyes  sdraight  avay  oudt 
already." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


"Men  say  of  women  wliat  pleases  them  ;  women  Ho  with  men  what 
pleases  tlicm."'—De  Segur. 

SO  we  start  on  our  "pleasure  excursion." 
I  had  long  been  anxious  to  visit  the  phosphate 
works,  for  I  had  not  only  seen  the  tremendous  bones, 
ribs,  and  teeth  from  these  prolific  beds,  but  the  Cap- 
tain and  I  had  been  investigating  them  both  geo- 
logically and  chemically. 

We  are  a  merry  crowd,  if  I  except  Mrs.  Keyson, 
who,  during  my  whole -acquaintance,  has  never 
thawed.  She  is  an  odd  woman.  I  know  she  loves 
her  husband  and  boys,  though  she  never  shows  the 
least  sign  of  affection  for  any  one — is  utterly,  hope- 
lessly indifferent  till  roused  by  jealousy. 

Her  husband,  on  the  contrary,  is  quite  a  delight- 
ful companion,  while  the  boys  are  talk-to-able. 

Miss  Clarke  is  a  simpering  maiden  of  thirty-five 
summers;  and  the  Lang  girls,  gushing  misses  of 
sixteen  and  eighteen.  They  regard  every  man  who 
owns  a  mustache  as  their  lawful  prey,  and  look 
with  lofty  scorn  'upon  the  younger  Keysons  who 
can  not  boast  that  proud  distinction.  Needless  to 
say,  the  boys  return  their  feelings  with  interest  and 
lavish  their  youthful  affections  on  Bess  and  me. 
They  are  perfectly  happy  with  either  of  us,  having 
no  decided  preference.  Their  chief  delight  is  in 
hanging  round  us,  like  two  great  watch  dogs,  "  to 


40  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

keep  the  other  fellows  from  making  love,  you 
know."  This  laudable  propensity  having  stood  u°, 
in  good  stead  on  more  than  one  occasion,  we  natu- 
rally encourage  its  continuance. 

What  a  perfect  day  for  pic-nicing !  The  sky 
bright  and  clear,  with  masses  of  soft,  filmy  white 
clouds ;  the  brilliant  sunshine,  dancing  gaily  over 
the  "dark,  deep,  beautiful  blue"  waters;  the  fresh, 
bracing  breeze,  and  no  prospect  of  rain — what  more 
could  heart  wish  for  ? 

"Coomoopto  de  bilot  house,"  says  de  Captain, 
"dere  you  see  mooch  petter." 

I  am  surprised,  and  rather  disconcerted  to  find 
my  enemy  at  the  wheel. 

He  is  looking  abominably  handsome  in  his  dark 
blue  yachting  suit,  and  smiles  with  pleasure,  as  we 
enter. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Kieth,"  he  says,  "Let  me 
thank  you  for  your  kind  note." 

"You  need  not,"  I  return  ungraciously,  "I  could 
scarcely  have  written  otherwise."  And,  ignoring 
his  look  of  disappointment,  I  turn  and  ask  Peter 
what  poinf  we  are  passing. 

"  Oh  dot  vas  Point  H—     — ,  vere  Captain  H— 
shwum  de  river  when  de  Injunts  vos  afder  him 
right  avay,  quick,  in  von  hurry  !    Dot  vot   happen 
blenty    years    ago — long    dimes   pefore    you    vos 
borned." 

"Do  you  know,"  I  reply,  "I  have  never  seen  an 
Indian  ?" 

"  Oh,  veil,  he  coom  in  bime-by  mit  vennyson  und 
vild  durkey," 

•'How  far  do  they  live  from  M—     — ?" 
"  'Bout  fifty  mile.    Me  get  oop  nice  growd,  und 
dake  you  oudt  to  see  de  earn])." 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  4i. 

"  Oh  that  would  be  lovely.     When  can  we  go  ?" 
"  Vot  de  matter  mit  Quistmas  veek — eh  ?" 
"Why,  that   will   suit   splendidly.     Captain,  you 
are  a  jewel !  "    He  laughs  delightedly,  for  our  Peter 
is  vain  and  loves  compliments. 

"Me  forgodt ;"  he  says,  a  few  minutes  later,  "  ve 
ish  all  invite  to   a  tinner  barty.     Here  he  ish  " 
thrusting  his  hand  in  one  of  his  many  pockets,  he 
draws  out  a  note,  and  hands  it  to  me,  saying,  "  you 
read  him." 
"  DEAR  CAPTAIN  : 

Remembering  that  Thursday  is  your  birthday, 
I  have  prepared  a  feast,  and  shall  be  pleased  to  re- 
ceive any  number  of  friends  you  care  to  bring. 
Dinner  at  six,  sharp.        As  ever,  your  friend, 
Nov.  26,  18 — .  LILLIAN  LEFON." 

"  Who  is  Lillian  Lefon,  and  where  does  she  live  ?" 
I  ask,  much  interested. 

"  Oh,  se  ish  vidow  womans,  und  se  life  bout  turty 
miles  f  um  here ;  ve  mooch  goot  vriens — I  eat  dinner 
mit  her  effry  birtday." 

"  How  nice  !    Is  she  old  or  young  ?" 

"Young." 

"  And  pretty  ?" 

"Oh  yas — und  reech." 

"  And  you  like  her  very  much  ?" 

"  Yas — pooty  goot." 

"Then,"  asks  Kieth,  "why  do  you  not  marry 
her?*' 

Peter  blushes,  and  looks  much  confused. 

"  Why  Captain,"  I  tease,  "  are  you  really  in  love  ?" 

"  Me  lofe  none  but  you  !  "  he  cries  ardently. 

Kieth  laughs,  wickedly,  enjoying  my  discomfit- 
ure. I  favor  him  with  one  withering  glance,  then 
turn  my  back,  and  ask  the  Captain  a  leading  ques- 


42  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

tion  on  politics.  This,  I  know,  is  a  safe  topic ;  for 
nothing  delights  him  more  than  lengthy  discourses 
on  "de  political  sitivation  ob  de  country,  de  intran- 
cient  (intrinsic)  value  ob  free  trade,  and  de  tormen- 
jus  (tremendous)  de-ficulties  "  that  would  befall  our 
nation,  if  prohibition  was  enforced. 

We  soon  reach  the  phosphate  works,  and  board 
one  of  the  dredges  engaged  in  scooping  this  valua- 
ble deposit  from  the  river  bottom.  A  heavy  lighter 
is  being  towed  down  stream.  Another,  equally 
large,  lies  along  side  of  the  dredge  to  receive  the 
screened  phosphate,  which  flows  continually  down 
the  shoot.  Several  men,  provided  with  shovels  and 
spades,  assist  the  transit.  The  deposit  is  largely 
pebble,  but  even  in  the  short  while  we  watch  the 
flow,  tremendous  bones  of  long  extinct  animals  are 
brought  to  the  surface.  We  climb  to  the  upper- 
deck,  and  inspect  the  large  circular  screen,  which, 
by  every  revolution  separates  so  much  sand  from 
the  more  valuable  phosphate ;  and  are  shown  the 
pipe  through  which  the  deposit  enters  the  screen, 
the  great  screw  and  its  process  of  cleaning ;  then 
its  final  transfer  to  the  ever- waiting  lighter. 

Mr.  Kieth  suggests,  that,  instead,  of  returning  by 
the  ladder,  which  he  considers  unsafe,  I  jump  to  the 
large  pile  of  phosphate  heaped  upon  the  lighter.  From 
sheer  perversity,  I  refuse.  De  Captain  holds  the  lad. 
der,  and  my  enemy  offers  his  hand,  which  I  decline. 

When  half  way  down,  the  dredge  gives  a  sudden 
swing,  the  ladder  is  unsettled,  and  down  I  come, 
straight  into  the  arms  of  the  enemy  ! 

"  Mine  Got !"  cries  Peter,  his  ruddy  face  white 
with  fright.  "  You  would  haf  cronched  to  clet !  Des 
see — de  lighter  und  de  dredge  boat  schwing  to  already 
de  same  nieenit." 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  43 

Keith,  who  looks  quite  as  agitated  as  de  Captain, 
has  utterly  forgotten  that  he  holds  me  in  a  warm 
embrace.  I  mildly  suggest  that  we  are  attracting 
attention.  Slowly  depositing  me,  he  eyes  me  atten- 
tively, evidently  expecting  another  mishap. 

We  go  ashore,  where  there  is  a  tremendous  pile 
of  phosphate,  look  for  shark's  teeth,  watch  the  pro- 
cess of  burning  (to  reduce  the  shell)  visit  the  drying 
sheds,  and  finally  select  a  nice  place,  make  coffee, 
and  spread  our  lunch. 

Peter  insists  on  doing  everything  in  person,  but 
Miss  Clarke  will  assist.  She  is  painfully  attentive 
to  the  poor  fellow,  exclaiming  constantly,  "  Oh  you 
kind,  good  man  !  "  or  "Dear  Captain, — you  delight- 
ful creature !"  which,  mingled  with  curious  contor- 
tions of  face  and  body,  rolling  of  eyes  and  theatri- 
cal gestures,  are  simply  killing. 

"Captain,"  I  ask,  "did  you  make  this  chowder? 
It  is  delicious  !  " 

"  Yas,  me  mek  him.  You  like  him  ?  Goot !  Haf 
som  moor?" 

"1  didn't  know  clams  could  be  cooked  tender. 
How  did  you  manage  it  ?" 

"  Me  show  you  som  day,"  he  returns  much  flat- 
tered. 

Bess  and  Kenneth  are  eating  from  the  same  plate, 
their  heads  almost  too  close  together. 

"Des  look  at  dem  !"  laughs  Peter,  "Dey  haffin 
sholly  ole  dimes." 

George  Key  son  sits  near  them,  so  I  feel  safe. 

Frank  is  devoting  himself  to  the  eldest  Miss  Lang, 
and  the. younger,  because  she  has  no  other  game, 
tries  to  flirt  with  Syd. 

Mrs.  Kevson  and  Miss  Clarke  discuss  with  great 
zeal,  the  relative  merits  of  canned  guavas  and  Mango 


44  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

jelly,  while  Mr.  Keyson  politely  supplies  their  wants. 

Mr.  Kieth,  my  nearest  neighbor,  is  polite,  but  not 
obstrusive.  Our  remarks  are  far  from  brilliant.  I 
strive  to  make  the  conversation  general,  but  fail ; 
so,  with  one  despairing  glance  at  Peter,  who  is  here, 
there,  and  every  where,  I  meekly  resign  myself  to 
the  inevitable". 

"Do  you  not  think  "  he  remarks,  apropos  of  noth- 
ing, "that  it  would  be  much  more  pleasant  to  lay 
aside  your  enmity  ?  Why  can  we  not  enjoy  our- 
selves as  much  as  they  ?"  glancing  towards  Bess 
and  Kenneth. 

"Well, "I  return,  grateful  for  his  timely  rescue, 
"As  we  shall,  necessarily,  be  much  together,  I  will 
try  to  overlook  your  past  unkindness." 

"  Come,  now,  in  the  name  of  Christian  charity, 
what  have  I  done  ?" 

I  look  him  calmly  in  the  face,  but  discover  no 
sign  of  guilt ;  his  self-control  is  truly  wonderful. 

"Really,"  I  reply,  "if  we  discuss  that  topic  even  sur- 
face friendship  will  become  impossible ;  so,  I  will  pre- 
tend (for  the  trip  only)  that  we  are  devoted  friends." 

"Thank  you,"  he  returns  with  a  bright  smile, 
"Friends  shake  hands ;  shall  we  seal  the  compact?" 

"  Mine  are  greasy,"  trying  to  avoid  him. 

"That  is  easily  overcome,"  he  answers,  producing 
a  snowy  handkerchief. 

Completely  cornered  I  yield  gracefully.  His  clasp 
is  strong,  sincere,  magnetic ;  I  feel  compelled  to  like 
him,  though  I  can  never  forgive  his  ungentlemanly 
letter. 

I  must  confess  he  is  a  delightful  companion,  and 
I  give  myself  up  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  this  charm- 
ing trip,  remembering  always,  that  next  week  he 
will  still  be  my  foe. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


"  Samivel,  my  son,  bevare  of  the  vidows." — Dickens. 

THE  river,  near  its  mouth,  widens  into  a  broad 
bay,  and  is  dotted  here  and  there  with  lovely 
verdure-clothed  islands.  On  one  of  these,  lives  Mrs. 
Lefon  ;  and  his  majesty,  the  sun,  is  just  taking  his 
evening  dip  into  the  blue  waters,  as  we  reach  her 
wharf. 

There  she  stands,  in  her  white  dress,  a  smile  of 
welcome  upon  her  lips. 

The  Captain  leaps  ashore,  shakes  hands,  and  says 
something,  at  which  they  both  laugh.  She  has  fine 
teeth,  and  evidently  knows  it. 

Alan  Kieth  takes  possession  of  my  wrap,  and 
stands,  patiently  waiting  my  departure. 

Seeing  he  must  be  my  attendant,  I  hastily  join 
de  Captain,  and  am  introduced  to  our  hostess. 

She  is  a  slender  blond,  "  divinely  tall,  and  most 
divinely  fair,"  with  engaging  manners,  and  a  pair 
of  dangerous  blue  eyes. 

She  smiles  serenely  upon  us,  saying  how  "per- 
fectly lovely "  it  is  to  have  us ;  then,  slipping  her 
hand  under  Peter's  arm,  leads  the  way  to  the  house. 
"She  seems  to  regard  de  Captain  as  her  rightful 
prey,"  laughs  Kieth,   as  we  follow  them  up  the 
white  shell  walk.     "  Rather  hard  on  you,  is  it  not  ?" 
"Yes,  indeed."     I  return  much  aggrieved.    "I  feel 
that  I  am  defrauded !" 


46  TWO    LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"  Poor  little  girl !    I  wish  I  could  console  you." 

"  You  cannot.    No  one  can  talk  like  Peter." 

"  I  can  at  least  say,  '  I  lofe  you !' " 

"  You  shall  not  mock  the  dear  fellow !"  said  I, 
while  blushing  at  his  look. 

•'lam  simply  imitating  his  virtues,"  he  returns 
coolly. 

"Look,  Miss  Nel !"  cries  Syd  running  towards  us. 
"I've  found  a  lot  of  cocoa-plums ;  try  one." 

I  force  myself  to  eat  one  or  two,  though  I  do  not 
like  them,  and  am  rewarded  by  Syd's  company  the 
rest  of  the  way. 

The  house,  a  neat,  white  cottage,  stands  on  a 
slight  elevation,  the  grounds  being  terraced  down 
to  the  white  sands  of  the  shell  strewn  beach.  On 
each  side  of  the  avenue,  stately  cocoa-palms  rear 
their  lofty  heads,  and  the  wind,  playing  through 
their  graceful  fronds,  creates  a  wierd,  peculiar 
sound,  unlike  any  thing  I  had  ever  heard.  Brilliant 
flowers  are  growing  every  where — the  air  is  heavy 
with  perfume. 

I  am  not  surprised,  when  a  little  South  American 
monkey  climbs  rapidly  to  the  top  of  a  cocoa-nut 
tree,  or  startled  when  a  gorgeous  parrot  screams 
shrilly,  "wipe  your  feet!  wipe  your  feet,  I  say!" 
for  they  are  only  in  keeping  with  their  surround- 
ings. 

"You  may  take  the  gentlemen  to  your  old  room, 
Captain,"  says  Mrs.  Lefon.  "Dinner  will  be  served 
in  ten  minutes.  This  way,  ladies."  She  conducts 
us  to  a  daintily  appointed  bed-room,  where  we  do  a 
little  extra  touching  up. 

"You  must  excuse  our  dinner  dresses,"  I  say. 
"  The  Captain  told  us  nothing  of  your  invitation  till 
we  were  on  board." 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  47 

"Just  like  the  dear  fellow!"  she  laughs.  "By 
the  way,  I  have  arranged  for  tableaux,  and  invited 
the  islanders;  you  will  all  assist." 

"  Then  I  hope,"  says  Bess,  brushing  out  her 
pretty  blond  hair,  and  fluffing  her  bangs,  "you 
can  clothe  us." 

"Yes,"  returns  the  widow,  "I  have  not  only 
arranged  my  program,  but  all  costumes  and  stage 
property.  The  Captain  delights  in  theatricals,  and 
— can  any  of  you  sing  ?" 

"Miss  Kieth  has  a  lovely  voice,"  returns  Miss 
Clarke.  "  I  have  a  throat  trouble  and  never  sing, 
now." 

"She  never  could,"  snickers  the  younger  Miss  Lang. 

"Ah  how  lovely  !"  says  Mrs.  Lefon,  "  and  your 
brother — or  is  he  your  cousin — does  he  sing?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you  two   will   do  that  lovely  duet  from 
Faust.    Of  course  you  know  it  ?" 
— "  Yes  ;  but  please  do  not  put  me  with  him.     I  will 
do  anything  else." 

"Nonsense!  You  must.  Are  you  ready?  Then 
come  to  the  parlor." 

As  the  gentlemen  enter  our  hostess  pairs  us  off  ; 
then  to  the  great  disgust  of  both  Miss  Clark  and 
myself  she  leads  the  way  to  the  dining-room^  her 
fair  face  flushed  with  pleasure  as  she  leans  com- 
placently on  Peter's  arm. 

"  Left  again  !"  laughs  Kieth,  thoroughly  enjoying 
my  crestfallen  look. 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?  "  I  ask,  placing  my  finger 
tips  relunctantly  upon  his  arm. 

"By  what?" 

"By  walking  rough-shod  over  my  feelings,"  I  re- 
turn with  a  pathetic  sigh. 


48  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"It  is  hard,"  he  returns,  "to  lose  such  a  devoted 
slave." 

The  dining-room  is  a  large  airy  apartment,  finished 
in  natural  pine.  The  door  and  window  trimmings 
of  black  walnut  form  a  pretty  contrast,  while  the 
floor,  stained  a  dark  brown,  is  only  partly  concealed 
by  a  handsome  crumb  cloth. 

A  scarlet  flamingo  stands  erect  in  one  corner,  look- 
ing disdainfully  upon  the  smaller  birds,  who,  from 
the  other  end  of  the  room  perch  upon  the  moss- 
draped  branches  of  an  old  tree. 

An  eight  foot  tarpon,  mounted  on  blue  velvet, 
occupies  a  conspicuous  place ;  while,  over  the  door, 
are  draped  the  German  flag  with  our  own  stars  and 
stripes.  Just  beneath  these  national  decorations, 
hangs  a  floral  horse  shoe,  while  from  walls  and  ceil- 
ing depend  numerous  garlands,  and  wreathes. 

The  table  is  an  artistic  study  in  fruit  and  flowers. 

Dainty  cactus  blossoms,  pale  yellow,  mingled  with 
geranium  leaves  and  waxy  pau-pau  flowers,  are 
beautifully  arranged  in  exquisitely  tinted  sea  shells; 
while  great  pyramids  of  tropical  fruits,  piled  high 
in  silver-mounted  turtle  backs,  lend  a  quaint  charm 
to  the  feast. 

On  each  plate  lies  a  beautifully  painted  tarpon 
scale — the  reverse  side  containing  the  menu.  We 
are  favored,  also,  with  unique  bon-bon  boxes— 
highly  polished  bivalves,  tied  with  dainty  ribbons. 
The  butter  plates  are  fragile  white  shells,  with  an 
inner  coating  of  rich  yellow — the  soup-ladle,  sugar- 
tongs  and  berry  spoons,  all  shells,  fitted  with  silver 
handles. 

There  we  sat,  miles  from  civilization,  and  ate  a 
nine  course  dinner — beautifully  served;  artistic, 
and  decidedly  novel. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  49 

The  meal  over,  we  adjourn  to  the  parlor  and  hold  a 
council  of  war. 

Our  hostess  informs  us  that  the  theatricals  will 
take  place  upon  a  large  shell  bank  near  the  house— 
the  bank  being  our  stage,  the  audience  sitting  be- 
low. The  company,  she  says,  is  waiting ;  so,  taking 
her  program,  she  writes  our  names  opposite  certain 
tableaux,  and,  without  giving  us  the  slightest  idea 
of  our  parts,  leads  us  to  the  open  air  theatre. 

A  palmetto  house,  separated  by  curtains  into  three 
apartments,  furnishes  excellent  dressing  rooms.  In 
the  middle  room  stands  Mrs.  Lefon,  calm  and  col- 
lected, distributing  costumes  ;  she  tell  us  to  give  no 
thought  to  our  performance,  she  will  pose  us  proper- 
ly ;  and  bids  us  hasten  to  clothe  ourselves,  for  the 
bonfires  have  been  lighted,  and  the  curtain  is  about 
to  rise. 

We  obey  with  alacrity,  for  who  can  resist  this 
quiet,  self-contained  young  widow  ? 


CHAPTER  IX. 


"  Love  is— I  know  not  what ;  which  comes— I  know  not  whence  ;  is 
formed— I  know  not  how;  which  ends— I  know  not  when  or  why."— Mile. 
C.  Scuddert. 

THE  Captain  opens  our  performance  with  a  plain- 
tive flute  solo ,  which  is  followed  by  an  ex- 
citing sword  duel,  between  our  Scotchmen — attired 
respectively  as  highlander  and  lowlander. 

The  curtain  next  rises  on  the  sad  faces  of  Frank 
Keyson  and  Mrs  Lefon — both  wearing  the  French 
costume  of  two  centuries  ago.  "The  Huguenot," 
whispers  Kieth,  even  before  she  begins  her  passion- 
ate recital. 

Her  long  fair  hair  hangs  loosely  about  her  should- 
ers, her  eyes  look  tenderly,  beseechingly  into  his 
dark  face  as  she  pleads  for  his  safety.  All  through 
this  scene  Peter  plays  "  Consolation "  so  softly  it 
seems  miles  and  miles  away — yet,  so  distinctly  that 
we  hear  every  note.  Now  come  some  comic  tab- 
leaux, in  which  the  Misses  Lang  and  Messrs.  Key- 
son  figure.  Bess  makes  a  charming  "Priscilla;" 
and,  with  Kenneth  for  "John  Alden  "  gives  us  a 
perfect  "  Spinning-wheel "  scene. 

Last  of  all,  comes  our  duet. 

Both  my  enemy  and  myself  are  lifted  entirely 
out  of  ourselves,  and  act  as  though  we  mean  every 
word.  We  do,  for  the  time,  or  how  else  could  we 
sing? 

"You  are  excited/'  he  says4  as  the  curtain  falls 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  51 

amid  great  applause.     "  Come,  take  a  turn  on  the 
beach." 

Forgetful  of  my  enmity,  I  follow  him  willingly, 
md  am  soon  walking  close  to  the   water's  edge 
Now  I  listen  to  the  wild  sea  waves,  and  am  thrilled 
by  that  glorious  song  of  nature  alway  the  same,  yet 
ever  new ! 

The  fresh  sea  breeze,  the  clear,  bright  moonlight, 
the  deep,  majestic  voice  of  old  ocean,  above  all,  the 
sympathetic  silence  of  my  companion,  charm  me 
unutterably ! 

"Miss  Nel !  Oh  Miss  Nel !"  screams  Sycl's  young 
voice. 

"Ah  !"  I  sigh,  "  Why  will  they  worry  me  ?" 

"  I  will  send  him  about  his  business,"  says  Mr. 
Kieth  by  no  means  gently. 

"  No,"  I  return  regretfully,  "the  charm  is  broken; 
let  us  return." 

"Stay  a  little,"  he  pleads,  "I  could  linger  for 
hours." 

"So  could  I,  till  Syd  interrupted  us." 

"  Were  you  really  happy — with  me  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Then  stay,  and  let  me  tell  you " 

"  I  say,  Miss  Nel,  they  are  waiting  for  you  !" 
Syd's  voice  is  much  nearer,  and  soon  he  joins  us, 
saying  in  an  annoyed  tone,  "  What  in  the  mischief 
are  you  doing  way  out  here  ?  I  have  looked  high 
and  low  for  you  ;  been  at  it  an  hour  !" 

"  Dear  child  !"  I  return,  "  we  have  not  been  here 
ten  minutes  !  WJiat  do  they  want  ?" 

"  Why  they  want  to  cut  the  birthday  cake — it  has 
a  ring  and  a  button  in  it — and  the  Cap'n  won't  let 
'em  touch  it  till  you  get  there." 

"I  wonder  Mrs.  Lef  on  allows  him  to  think  of  me!" 


52  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"  I  say  it !  "  exclaims  my  youthful  admirer,  "  how 
can  she  help  it  ?  But  I  tell  you,  Miss  Nel,  she  does 
him  that  way  all  the  time  they  are  together — never 
lets  him  look  at  another  woman." 

"  What  does  she  mean  ?" 

*'  I  don't  know,  but  it  looks  plaguey  like  she  means 
to  marry  him." 

Mr.  Keith  and  I  both  laugh. 

"Oh,  Syd,"  I  cry,  "  you  are  too  comical!  The 
very  idea  is  preposterous — our  Peter  is  not  a  marry- 
ing man." 

"  Well,"  he  continues  doggedly,  "  I  didn't  say  he 
wanted  her-did  I?  Next  year  is  leap  year,  you  know.'1 

"And  do  you  fancy,  you  ridiculous  boy,  that  she 
will  ask  him  ?" 

"  Of  course.  Why,  I  bet  you  anything,  if  you  go 
back  on  him,  she'll  marry  him  in  spite  of  anything 
he  may  do  or  say  !" 

" I  must  confess,"  laughs  Kieth,  "I  should  greatly 
like  to  hear  the  courtship." 

"  I  say,  Miss  Nel,"  persists  Syd,  "  could  you  love  a 
fellow  well  enough  to  tell  him  of  it  ?" 

"I  think  not,  Syd." 

"Not  even  leap  year?    Just  for  fun,  you  know." 

"  Perhaps — but  I  could  never  do  it  in  earnest." 

"Well,"  continues  the  youngster,  as  we  join  the 
waiting. crowd,  "  it  can't  be  any  harder  on  you  than 
on  us  men." 

"  Us  men?"  mocks  Bess.  "Syd,  my  child,  what 
are  you  puzzling  your  poor  brains  over?" 

"We  are  discussing,"  retorts  the  boy,  drawing 
himself  up  proudly,  and  using  the  longest  words  at 
his  command,  "the  advisability  of  you  ladies  pro- 
posing marriage.  What  are  your  sentiments,  Mrs. 
Lefon?" 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  5b 

Our  hostess  gives  one  calm,  possessive  glance  at 
Peter,  then,  in  her  sweet,  deliberate  voice  replies : 

"I  think  it  but  just  that  woman  exercise  that 
right  in  common  with  man. ' 

"Oh!"  exclaims  Miss  Clarke,  "I  could  never  be 
so  immodest." 

"  There  is  no  immodesty,"  returns  the  fair  Lillian. 
"When  we  love,  eyes,  voice,  manner,  all  plead  for 
us.  Why  not  words?  Only  a  foolish  prejudice 
prevents  our  speaking." 

"  Could  you  ?"  I  hear  Kenneth  ask  Bess. 

"  If  the  inducement  was  sufficient,"  she  laughs. 

"What  think  you  of  an  heir-loom  diamond? 
Would  it  be ?" 

"It  might,  if  handsome." 

"Bess,"  I  call,  determined  to  break  into  this  dan- 
gerous conversation,  "  do  help  me  find  this  pin — it's 
sticking  me  awfully." 

"  Nel,"  she  whispers,"  you  are  too  mean — you 
spoilt  just  the  loveliest  flirtation !" 

"  I  know  it,"  sternly.  "  Why  will  you  carry  on 
so  outrageously  ?" 

"I'm  only  having  a  little  fun,"  she  returns  inno- 
cently. "  It  don't  hurt  them !  Their  hearts  aro 
like  turtle,  eggs — you  may  make  a  little  dent,  but 
they  are  too  tough  to  break." 

"I'm  ashamed  of  you !  Do  try  to  behave  more 
decently." 

"Well,"  that's  a  good  one  !"  she  laughs.  "Pray, 
Miss  Propriety,  what  have  you  been  doing  to  our 
enemy  ?  You  need'nt  accuse  me  of  flirting !" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  ask  indignantly. 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Why,  that  you  have  been 
inseparable  since  lunch.  Kenneth  and  I  have  been 
wondering  all  sorts  of  things." 


54  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

The  more  annoyed  I  become,  the  worse  she  teases, 
so  I  change  my  tactics  and  remark  quietly,  "Yes, 
he  is  very  agreeable." 

The  motley  assembly  of  islanders  is  served  with 
ice-cream  and  cake,  fruit  and  nuts  ;  and  we  gather 
around  the  birthday  cake.  The  Captain,  who  cuts 
first,  gives  a  war-whoop ;  for  out  falls  a  dainty  for- 
get-me-not ring !  Much  amusement  is  caused  by 
our  efforts  to  avoid  the  dreaded  button ;  fate,  alas  ! 
gives  it  to  Miss  Clarke — and  she  accepts  it  ungrac- 
iously. 

"Dere,  Mees  Nelsonn,"  says  Peter,  "you  kep  my 
little  trinket  dill  ve  gets  home ;  I  vill  sure  loose  him." 

"Very  well,"  I  reply,  extending  my  hand. 

He  playfully  drops  the  ring  over  my  finger,  and  1 
push  it  down,  considering  that  the  most  convenient 
mode  of  carriage. 

"Just  look  at  her !"  whispers  Syd,  and  I  glance  up 
in  time  to  catch  the  look  of  surprise  and  hatred  with 
which  the  widow  favors  me. 

"Why  Syd,  what  ails  her?" 

"  Jealousy,"  he  answers  sagely.  "  That's  just  the 
way  they  look  when  they  fancy  another  girl  is  after 
their  fellow.  She'll  hate  you,  now,  worse  than 
snaked  Just  look  at  'em — guess  she's  hauling  him 
over  the  coals." 

They  are  evidently  arguing  Bome^^it,  but  I  can 
see  she  is  tranquilly  taking  her  own  way.  There  is 
so  much  quiet  force  about  this  woman';;  that  I  begin 
to  sympathize  with  Peter.  What  if  Syd's  absurd 
idea  is  correct  ?  Now  they  approach  us,  and  she  re- 
marks in  her  smooth,  even  voice,  "  I  have  at  last 
convinced  the  Captain  that  I  can  take  care  of  you 
to-night — that  is,  if  you  won't  mind  being  a  little 
crowded." 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  55 

"Thank  you,"  I  return,  by  no  means  charmed. 
"It  is  unnecessary  to  trouble  you — we  came  pre- 
pared to  camp." 

"  Indeed,  you  shall  not !  "  she  returns  decisively, 
"Your  beds  are  already  spread — so  come  with  me — 
it  is  after  twelve.  Captain,  you  know  where  to 
stow  the  gentlemen — come,  ladies." 

Mrs.  Lefon's  bedroom  had  been  transformed  into 
a  regular  dormitory — neat  little  cots  occupied  every 
available  space.  She  gives  up  her  own  comfortable 
bed  to  the  two  older  ladies,  and  takes  possession  of 
the  fifth  cot. 

"  Girls,"  she  says,  mischievously,  "  be  sure  to 
name  the  corners ;  and  remember,  what  you  dream 
will  come  to  pass." 

Tis  the  first  peep  of  day,  when  I  awake  from  a 
most  horrible  dream  !  Will  it  come  true  ?  I  hope 
not !  Mrs.  Lefoii,  our  polite  hostess,  had  chased  me 
all  night  with  a  long,  murderous  knife,  shrieking 
wildly  that  I  had  stolen  her  lover,  and  should  die  ! 
Down  the  slippery  beach  we  flew,  her  long,  fair 
hair  flying  wildly  in  the  breeze  !  I  feel  her  hot 
breath  in  my  face — now  she  clutches  me,  and  is 
about  to  finish  her  mad  exploit,  when  Peter  and  my 
enemy  rush  to  the  rescue.  The  former  shields  me 
with  his  body,  while,  the  latter  grabs  her  floating 
hair,  holding  her  in*  a  vice.  I  start  up  and  look 
around — thank  God,  it  is  but  a  dream !  My  com- 
panions sleep  peacefully.  Miss  Clark  snores  music- 
ally, and  Mrs.  Lefon's  face  is  as  composed  as  in  her 
waking  hours.  , 

I  return  to  my  couch,  but  can  not  sleep — so  hastily 
dressing,  I  slip  quietly  from  the  house  down  to  the 
beach. 

Our  two  Scotchmen  have  just  emerged  from  their 


56  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

morning  dip.  The  Captain,  coming  on  deck,  calls 
out  "  De  coffee  ish  ready  !" 

Ah,  now  he  sees  me,  jumps  ashore  to  ask  if  I'll 
join  them.  I  accept  thankfully,  having  no  roman- 
tic notion  for  long  walks  before  breakfast. 

Peter,  now  free  from  Mrs.  Lefon's  clutches, 
seems  to  enjoy  himself  immensely. 

"  How  came  you  up  so  early  ?"  asks  Kenneth,  "  I 
thought  you  loved  your  beauty  sleep." 

"  Bad  dreams,"  I  answer  shortly. 

"  Why,  you  are  as  bad  as  Kieth — he  clutched  me 
about  day-break,  and  yelled  aloud,  "Hold,  wretched 
woman !"  Suppose  you  give  us  an  experience 
meeting." 

"  What  did  you  dream  ?"  I  ask,  looking  curiously 
into  my  enemy's  troubled  face. 

"That  the  Captain  and  I  were  rescuing  you  from 
a  mad  woman." 

"  How  strange  !    Did  you  see  her  face  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  it  was " 

The  Captain  is  looking  at  us  anxiously,  so  he  con- 
tinues evasively,  "a  tall  woman,  with  long,  fair 
hair.  She  carried  a  long  knife,  and  threatened  to 
kill  you,  saying  you  had  stolen  her  lover,  and  should 
'  die  !  die  !  die  ! '  Is  she  the  same  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  answer,  much  agitated. 

"  Come,  boys,"  he  says,  laying  aside  ms  cup,  •'  let 
us  walk  on  the  beach — nothing  like  a  good  run  to 
brace  up  nerves." 

We  wander  several  hours,  stopping  occasionally 
to  pick  up  a  pretty  shell,  star-fish  or  bit  of 
coral. 

The  Captain  is  as  merry  as  a  boy ;  indeed,  we  are 
all  happy  children. 

"Suppose,"  suggests  Kieth,  "we  run  away,  and 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  57 

leave  the  others  ?  We  are  much  happier  without 
them." 

"You  forget,"  says  Kenneth,  evidently  thinking 
of  Bess,  "  we  would  soon  quarrel  over  our  lady.  No, 
our  colony  would  necessarily  demand  another." 

"  I  see  your  game,"  laughs  his  friend,  "  you  would 
provide  for  self,  and  leave  the  Captain  and  me  to 
contend  for  the  smiles  of  our  present  sovereign." 

"And  the  Captain,"  I  say  with  a  mischievous 
laugh,  "could  never  leave  Mrs.  Lefon." 

Poor  Peter  blushes  hotly,  as  he  exclaims,  "  You 
know  nottings  bout  him  !  Se  bodder  me  too  mooch 
already.  But  vot  I  do  ?  Se  fine  vomans — vere  fine 
vomans — but  I  lofe  but  you  !" 

"But  you  must  not  love  me,"  I  insist,  "she  does 
not  like  it." 

"Me  done  gare — me  done  gare  !  Se  ish  nottings. 
I  lofe  you  mooch  !" 

"  I  begin  to  doubt  it ;  for  you  have  neglected  me 
shamefully  !' 

"  Oh  Mees  Nelson  !  you  know  he  vos  true  !  Here, 
on  my  knees  I  schware  him."  Down  upon  the  wet 
sand  he  falls,  regardless  of  spectators. 

"  Oh  you  ridiculous  man  !  Do  get  uo.  Hurry,  or 
that  great  wave  will  strike  you  !" 

"Neffar  !  "  he  cries  steadfastly.  "Till  you  say  dot 
you  believe  me." 

"You  had  better,  for  here  comes  Mrs.  Lefon." 

This  information  acts  like  magic.  Up  he  bounces, 
a  look  of  disgust  upon  his  dear  old  face. 

Bessie  and  the  widow  soon  join  us  ;  if  looks  could 
kill  I  should  certainly  drop  dead  in  my  tracks. 
"Breakfast  is  waiting,"  she  remarks  in  her  com- 
posed way,  "  we  have  had  a  long  search  for  you. 
Come,  Captain." 


58  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

Peter  is  in  a  quandary.  He  looks  longingly  at  me 
and  hesitates. 

"Please,  Mrs.  Lefon,"  I  cry  with  much  feeling, 
"  do  not  take  the  Captain  from  me  !  He  is  just  in 
the  midst  of  a  thrilling  description.  Mr.  Kieth,  I 
know,  will  be  charmed  to  escort  you." 

"I  regret  disturbing  you,"  she  returns  politely, 
"  but  I  am  compelled  to  discuss  an  important  busi- 
ness matter  with  the  Captain." 

She  lays  her  firm  white  hand  upon  his  unwilling 
arm,  and,  with  one  triumphant  glance  at  me,  tows 
the  poor  fellow  forward. 

"Did  you  ever  get  left?  "laughs  Kenneth,  who 
has  already  taken  possession  of  Bess. 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Kieth,  you  sympathize  with  me  ?"  I 
retort  in  mock  despair. 

"  How  can  I,"  he  laughs,  "  when  you  were  so  will- 
ing to  sacrifice  me  ?" 

"But  you  are  not  so  charmingly  unique  as 
Peter!" 

"  Serves  you  right,"  says  Bess,  "for  being  selfish. 
Poor  Miss  Clarke  hasn't  had  a  peck  at  him  yet." 

"  Seriously,  Miss  Kieth,"  says  my  enemy,  "don't 
rouse  that  woman's  jealousy — there  is  a  devil  behind 
those  tranquil  eyes  ;  she'll  go  to  any  lengths." 

"And  must  I  tamely  surrender  my  most  devoted 
admirer  ?" 

"  "Twould  be  safer — unless,  indeed,  you  care  for 
Peter." 

"  Of  course  I  care  for  Peter  ;  how  can  I  help  it, 
when  he  says  '  I  lof e  you  ?  ' " 

"  Then  be  011  guard,  keep  your  out-posts  protected 
and  look  out  for  treachery." 


CHAPTER  X. 


"AH  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  whole, 
Whose  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  soul."— Pope. 

AFTER  a  dainty  breakfast,  we  bid  our  hostess 
farewell,  board  the  "Okeechobee,"  and  steam 
further  south. 

On  we  glide,  over  the  smooth  waters ;  passing 
many  curious  mangrove  swamps,  and  beautiful 
beach-encircled  islands. 

Immense  flocks  of  sea-gulls  scream  by  us  in  their 
flight ;  while,  just  ahead,  a  pelican  dives  for  his 
prey,  then  calmly  rides  the  shining  waters. 

Islands  become  more  numerous.  Now  we  reach 
a  cluster,  separated  only  by  narrow  passses.  The 
islands  are  in  a  high  state  of  cultivation ;  cocoanut 
groves  edge  the  beaches,  extending  some  distance 
inland,  there  to  overshadow  bananas,  pineapples, 
and  smaller  fruits. 

The  inhabitants,  Peter  informs  me,  engage  in 
raising  vegetables  for  northern  markets  ;  thousands 
of  crates  being  shipped  every  year. 

Here,  frost  is  unknown  ;  for  the  warm  gulf  waters, 
even  more  than  the  southern  latitudes,  produce  an 
even,  mild  temperature,  seldom  found  out  of  the 
tropics. 

This,  I  am  told,  is  the  beginning  of  the  wonderful 
Thousand  Islands;  for,  as  we  proceed  south,  the 
isles  become  more  and  more  numerous,  the  passes 
more  narrow  and  intricate. 


60  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

Towards  evening  we  land  on  one  of  these  gems  of 
ocean  and  prepare  to  camp. 

De  Captain  flourishes  about,  giving  orders  to  the 
others ;  nothing  delights  his  dear  old  heart  more 
than  "bossing." 

Our  bars  are  stretched,  a  huge  camp-fire  lighted, 
and  Peter,  assisted — or  hindered — by  most  of  the 
fair  ones,  prepares  supper. 

"  Who  will  wash  dishes  ?"  asks  Bess,  when  we've 
all  done  justice  to  our  open  air  feast. 

"I!  "  exclaim  the  Misses  Lang,  simultaneously. 

"  I  will  assist  some  gentleman,"  simpers  Miss 
Clarke. 

"  Suppose  we  draw  straws  ?"  continues  Bess. 
"  You  hold  them  for  us,  Mrs.  Keyson,  and  your  hus- 
band for  the  boys ;  remember  the  shortest  straw 
means  dishwashing. " 

The  penance  falls  on  Mr.  Keith  and  me.  How 
disagreeable  !  The  others  give  a  shout  of  derision, 
well  knowing  my  aversion  to  this  particular  occu- 
pation. Now,  I  can  wash  dishes,  and  wash  them 
well,  but  I  utterly  detest  it !  A  cook  is  something 
of  a  general,  but  a  dishwasher — I  fully  agree  with 
the  sensible  woman  who  wrote, 

"  Oh  the  times  they  must  be  handled, 

O'er  and  o'er,  day  after  day, 
Almost  makes  me  wish  the  china 
Were  in  bits,  for  children's  play  !  " 

However,  with  all  my  faults  I  possess  one  virtue — 
that  of  accepting  the  inevitable  with  equanimity. 
So,  with  my  sweetest  smile,  I  exclaim  gaily,  "  Come, 
Mr.  Kieth,  begin  your  work  !  " 

"Must  I?"  he  asks  in  lazy  tones.  "Suppose  we 
bribe  the  cook  ?" 

"  Never  !"  I  return  sternly.  "  Here,  scrape  these 
plates,  while  I  pack  the  cold  food," 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLOKIDA.  61 

"  What  must  be  done  ?" — he  begins,  scraping  with 
great  vigor. 

He  "stacks"  the  dishes,  pours  hot  water  over 
them,,  then  stands,  towel  in  hand  to  dry  them.  We 
soon  finish  our  unwelcome  task,  but  my  friends, 
alas  !  have  "  dispersed  and  wandered  far  away  !  far 
away  ?"  True,  Peter  threw  me  a  despairing  glance, 
when  marched  off  by  the  fair  "Marta,"  which, 
though  flattering  to  my  vanity,  could  not  relieve 
my  present  unhappy  condition. 

Even  Syd  had  deserted. 

Making  the  best  of  circumstances,  I  say,  crossly  : 

"  Come  on,  let  us  find  the  others." 

"  Suppose  we  remain,"  he  suggests,  "I  am  awfully 
contented." 

"  I  am  not ;"  I  answer,  by  no  means  desirous  of  a 
tete-a-tete,  "  but  do  as  you  like." 

"Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go!"  he  answers, 
offering  his  arm. 

The  brilliant  moonlight  falls  with  a  soft  Tadiance 
about  us,  flooding  both  land  and  sea  with  its  clear, 
white  sheen. 

Several  couples  promenade  the  sands,  while  others 
sit  upon  the  high  shell  bank.  Before  we  reach  the 
first  group  Syd  runs  towards  us,  a  tin  can  held  care- 
fully in  one  hand,  the  other  placed  firmly  over  it. 

"  I  say,  Miss  Nel,"  he  says  in  a  mysterious  whis- 
per, "  which  is  Miss  Clarke's  bed  ?" 

"Third  from  camp,"  I  return.  "Why  do  you 
ask  ?" 

"Nothin',"  he  answers,  running  briskly  along. 

"That  tin  can  means  mischief/'  laughs  my  com- 
panion. "Shall  we  warn  Miss  Clarke  ?" 

"Do  not  tell  tales  ! "  I  answer. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Kieth,  we  were  just  wishing  for  you," 


62  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

says  Mr.  Keyson,  who,  with  several  others,  sits  upon 
the  upper  ledge.  "  Come  give  us  a  song — music  is 
all  we  need  this  perfect  night." 

"Don't  stop,"  pleads  my  companion,  "walking  is 
much  nicer." 

"No,"  I  answer,  determined  to  be  disagreeable, 
"  moonlight  always  makes  me  sentimental." 

"And  how,"  he  asks,  "does  that  state  affect 
you  ?" 

"  Why,  like  other  romantic  damsels,  I '  for  my 
absent  lover  sigh  !'  Isn't  that  the  correct  thing?" 

"  Have  you  an  absent  lover  ?"  he  asks  anxiously. 

"Really,  Mr.  Kieth,  considering  our  great  in- 
timacy  -" 

"Excuse  me,"  he  interrupts,  "I  forgot  myself." 

"  Oh  Mees  Nelson  !"  calls  Peter,  "  hurry  mit  dot 
song ! " 

Working  myself  up  to  a  feeling  of  passionate 
yearning  I  sing  "Dreams." 

"  When  I  look  back,  on  days  gone  by, 

I  dream  of  thee,  dear  one, 
Then  grows  my  soul  so  sad  and  drear, 
Aye  sadder  than " 

Before  I  finish  the  first  verse,  Peter,  who  is  easily 
touched  by  music,  is  in  tears. 

"  How  could  you  sing  that  sad,  sad  song  ?"  says 
Miss  Clarke,  sympathetically  wiping  her  dry  eyes. 
"Do  give  us  something  comic." 

I  glance  at  my  audience — my  enemy  is  looking 
quite  subdued.  Mr.  Keyson  wears  a  far  away  look, 
as  though  his  mind  was  filled  with  long  dead  mem- 
ories. His  wife,  alone,  is  unmoved — either  she  has 
no  emotion,  or  keeps  it  under  strict  control. 

They  certainly  need  diversion  ;  so  I  sing,  in  my 
lightest,  most  flippant  tone,  that  famous  old  love 
song,  "  Rory  O'More," 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  63 

The  rest  of  our  party,  attracted  by  the  music  now 
join  us,  and  Kenneth  begs  for  a  Scotch  ballad. 

"What  do  you  want?"  I  ask. 

"  '  John  Anderson  my  Joe/  "  says  Kieth. 

"Yes,"  returns  Kenneth,  "  that  is  my  favorite.' 

As  I  sing,  some  irresistible  force  compels  me  to 
look  directly  at  my  enemy.  I  try  not  to,  for  I  seem 
to  sing  to  him  alone — but  try  as  I  will  my  eyes  seek 
his. 

"  Do  give  us  another  !  "  begs  the  party. 

But  I  cannot ;  I  am  perfectly  helpless.  Singing 
never  affected  me  so  strangely  before.  We  lie  there 
and  plan  for  to-morrow,  our  last  day  of  idle  enjoy- 
ment, then  depart,  "each  to  his  narrow  bed." 

Scarcely  have  our  heads  touched  the  pillow,  when 
blood-curdling  screams  float  upon  the  air  !  I  raise 
my  bar  aud  reconnoitre.  The  cries  of  anguish  pro- 
ceed from  feminine  voices,  and  from  the  bars  of  the 
Misses  Clarke  and  Lang.  Soon  the  protecting 
cheese-cloth  is  torn  aside,  and  three  maidens,  two 
young,  one  old,  caper  madly  about,  making  frantic 
efforts  to  free  themselves  of  some  crawling  object. 

"What  is  it?"  I  ask,  as  they  approach  nearer. 

"Fiddlers  !"  they  yell  in  chorus.  "Mercy,  they 
are  down  my  back !  O-o-o-o  !  One  is  on  my  head  ! 
Do  take  this  one  from  my  toe  !  "  were  some  of  the 
exclamations  heard. 

"  Syd's  little  game,"  I  think  to  myself,  but  say 
nothing. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keyson  soon  relieve  the  ladies  of 
their  troublesome  guests,  and  "silence  settles,  deep 
and  still "  over  our  little  encampment. 

Day  is  just  breaking,  when  the  now  familiar  "  cow 
holler"  from  Syd's  strong  lungs,  disturbs  our  pleas- 
ant slumbers.  We  rise  without  a  murmur,  and 


64  TWO    LITTLE   MAIDS'. 

dress  in  haste,  for   to-day  we   fisli  for  tarpon — that 
great  silver  king  of  South  Florida  waters. 

Before  starting,  the  gentlemen  test  their  lines ;  an 
important  precaution  which  should  never  be  neglect- 
ed. Securing  the  hook  to  a  tree,  or  other  immov 
able  object,  they  move  backwards  fifty  or  a  hundred 
feet,  and  bear  steadily  upon  the  line,  imitating,  as 
far  as  possible  the  movements  of  Mr.  Tarpon.  This 
test  is  very  thorough  ;  all  your  strength  being  exer- 
cised in  an  effort  to  break  the  line.  If  anything  gives 
way,  it  should  be  the  rod  ;  for  a  line  which  cannot 
stand  this  test  is  utterly  worthless  for  tarpon,  and. 
will  prove  only  a  '  vexation  of  spirit "  to  its  un- 
happy owner. 

There  are  so  many  ways — unavoidable  ways — by 
which  a  tarpon  may  escape  from  even  an  experi- 
enced angler,  that  no  man  can  afford  to  trifle  with 
poor  tackle.  There  are  times  in  the  life  of  every 
"tarponer,"  when  he  feels,  acutely,  that  it  "  would 
be  better  if  he  had  never  been  born."  For  nothing 
in  heaven  or  earth  is  so  calculated  to  make  men 
swear  as  the  loss  of  this  gamey  fish  through  defec- 
tive tackle.  Syd  declares  he  has  seen  great,  strong 
men,  the  fathers  of  many  children,  actually  shed 
tears  of  mortification  over  the  breaking  of  a  line  or 
defect  in  the  snood. 

We  divide  into  parties  of  four,  and,  with  rods, 
reels  and  lunch  baskets  securely  packed  in  small 
boats,  proceed  to  a  pass  long  famed  for  tarpon. 

Miss  Clarke,  Mr.  Kieth  and  I,  who  are  in  the  Cap- 
tain's boat,  arrive  at  the  fishing  ground  about  seven 
o'clock.  Our  boats  lie  within  talking  distance, 
though  not  near  enough  to  interfere  with  each 
other. 

Mr.  Tarpon  feeds  in  shallow  water,  and  is  quite 


A   TALE   OP   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  65 

dainty  about  his  fare.  We  drop  our  hooks,  baited 
with  half  a  mullet,  and  possess  our  souls  with 
patience.  Half  an  hour  of  suspense  ensues,  when 
Mr.  Kieth  exhibits  traces  of  unusual  excitement ! 
His  line  is  being  drawn  out  slowly,  at  first,  then 
more  rapidly  ;  a  tarpon  has  been  hooked.  He  lets 
her  run  fifty  feet,  then  begins  winding  in  ;  out  she 
goes  again  ! 

Syd,  who  is  nearest  us,  shouts,  "Let  her  go  Galla- 
gher !" 

Peter -hoists  full  sail,  and  away  we  go — like  the 
wind  !  The  other  boats  keep  at  a  respectful  distance, 
for  there  is,  necessarily,  much  courtesy  in  tarpon 
fishing. 

Kieth  grits  his  teeth,  pulls  his  hat  well  over  his 
eyes,  braces  his  feet,  and  works"  hard  at  his  reel. 
Peter  gives  several  excited  instructions.  Now  our 
monarch  of  the  deep  begins  to  feel  the  pressure  upon 
his  mighty  jaws,  and  leaps  high  in  air  !  His  silver 
scales  sparkle  in  the  sun-light  like  so  many  jewels ! 
Down  he  plunges — and  again  the  mad  race  begins. 

Mr.  Tarpon's  sagacity  amounts  almost  to  reason ; 
his  cunning  in  baffling  his  enemies  would  do  credit 
to  a  first-class  politician.  Mr.  Kieth  is  actually  pale 
with  excitement,  but  plays  his  fish  well.  This  per- 
formance, with  slight  variations,  continues  three 
mortal  hours ;  when,  just  as  we  are  sure  of  our  prey, 
the  wary  fish  gives  a  "  give  me  liberty  or  give  me 
death  "  plunge,  and — is  gone  ! 

Poor  Kieth  pulls  his  hat  still  further  over  his  eyes, 
and  drops  his  hands  helplessly  to  his  sides.  His 
whole  figure  assumes  a  hopeless,  reckless  expres- 
sion, but  he  utters  not  a  word.  He  has  sinco 
acknowledged,  that  he  swore,  inwardly,  the  rest  of 
the  day. 


66  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

Peter  gives  a  great  sob,  Miss  Clarke  sighs  sympa- 
thetically, and  I — to  keep  from  crying — laugh  hys- 
terically. I  can't  see  my  enemy's  face,  but  he  turns 
his  back  with  an  angry  gesture. 

I  am  sorry,  and  begin  to  explain,  when  my  own 
line  demands  attention.  My  heart  beats  almost  to 
suffocation — I  am  so  excited  I  must  scream — but  no, 
that  will  scare  the  fish  !  Both  men  begin  instruct- 
ing me,  but  I  beg  them  piteously  to  leave  me  alone 
—I  have  an  idea,  and  want  to  follow  it.  One  !  two  ! 
three  !  leaps  he  makes,  but  I  never  loose  my  hold, 
and  after  a  long  and  exciting  chase,  have  the  proud 
distinction  of  landing  the  first  and  only  tarpon 
caught  by  our  party — for  landing  and  hooking  are 
vastly  different  things ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 


"  The  Lord  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb." — Sterne. 

ONE  day,  about  the  middle  of  December,  our 
trustee  bustled  into  the  school-room,  and 
asked,  " Aint  he  most  dinnertime,  Mees  Nelson  ?" 

"In  five  minutes,"  I  reply,  wondering  what  he 
wanted. 

"Veil,"  he  continues  good  naturedly,  "let  de 
youngsters  go.  1  haf  someting  to  show  you." 

"What  is  it?"  I  ask,  tapping  the  bell. 

"Se  out  side — bring  your  seester." 

Peter  is  full  of  mystery,  so  I  call  Bess,  and  we 
follow  him  eagerly  to  the  play-ground. 

There  stands  an  Indian  brave  in  buckskin  mocca- 
sins and  leggins  !  His  dark  blue  shirt,  belted  at  the 
waist  reaches  his  knees ;  a  gay  plaid  shawl,  folded 
on  the  bias,  and  wound  into  a  turban  is  upon  his 
head ;  through  his  belt  sticks  a  murderous  looking 
kiiif  e,  and  on  his  shoulders  he  carries  the  whole  of 
a,  well  dressed  deer. 

"He  doesn't  look  very  ferocious,"  I  remark. 
"  Where  did  you  find  him  ? 

"Two-Tree  come  to  trade,"  says  Peter.  "Me 
pring  him  for  you  to  see." 

"Now,"  exclaims  Bess,  "  we  can  buy  venison  from 
a  real  Seminole  Indian !  Say,  Mr.  Indian,  how 
much  for  your  venison  ?"  His  only  answer  is  a  long 
stare,  and  an  unintelligible  grunt. 


68  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS, 

"  Why  Miss  Bessie,"  laughs  Syd,  "  you  must  break 
up  your  English,  or  he  wont  understand  a  word." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"Oh  you  listen — I'll  buy  the  venison  for  you. 
Hello  Billy  !  Fine  deer,  you  got  him?" 

"  Uh-huh,"  answers  the  Indian,  making  that  inar- 
ticulate sound  which  means  yes — so  easy  to  make, 
but  hard  to  spell. 

"Me  buy  him,"  continues  Syd.  "Money — you 
want  him — how  much  ?" 

"  Deer — you  have  him  " — answers  the  brave,  "  two 
dollar." 

"Whole  deer  too  much — ojus.  One  ham — we  want 
him — how  much  ?" 

"Twenty-five  cent." 

"All  right— cut  him  off." 

He  lays  his  burden  upon  the  grass,  and  taking  the 
knife  from  his  belt,  cuts  off  a  haunch  of  venison. 
Bess  and  1  both  attempt  conversation,  but  he  prob- 
ably scorns  "white  squaw,"  for  our  efforts  are  fruit- 
less. Syd,  however,  seems  a  favorite,  and  they  con- 
fabulate fluently. 

"  Squaw — you  got  'em  ?"  questions  Syd. 

He  gives  a  negative  grunt,  then  adds,  "  Bime-by 
me  ketch  him." 

"  See,"  says  Syd  gravely,  pointing  first  to  Peter, 
then  to  Bess  and  me,  "  Red-beard,  big  chief — two 
squaw — he  got  'em." 

The  Indian  looks  stolidly  into  our  laughing  faces, 
then  answers  coolly,  "You  lie." 

Syd  changes  the  subject. 

"  Turkey — you  see  'em — you  shoot  'em  ?" 

Another  inarticulate  negative. 

" SiLc-us-chay  "  (all  gone). 

"Wyomy — you  buy  him?" 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  69 

"Wyomy — holy-wogus  !  (no  good).  Send  Indian, 
holy-wogus,  to  hell." 

"  Venison — you  bring  him  again — soon  ?  " 

"  Uh-huh.    Two  moons — me  bring  him." 

"  When  you  hy-e-pus  ?  to-day  ?  " 

"Uh-huh.     Good-bye." 

He  leaves  us  as  suddenly  as  he  came,  his  broad 
shoulders  bending  beneath  his  heavy  load. 

Syd,  who  understands  all  about  such  things,  car- 
ries our  venison  home,  carefully  cuts  the  meat  from 
the  bone,  salts  and  hangs  in  a  cool  place. 

The  Captain  is  delighted  that  we  are  pleased  with 
our  first  Indian  visitor,  and  promises  again  to  make 
up  a  party  to  invade  their  camp. 

We  go  next  week  to  a  sugar-boiling  dance,  from 
which  we  expect  much  amusement. 

We  are  having  such  a  lovely  winter — our  patrons 
are  pleased,  their  children  happy  and  de  trustee  en- 
chanted. What  more  could  we  desire  ?  True,  our 
neighbors  are  uncultured,  but  their  kindness  is  un- 
bounded. 

Then,  of  all  delightful  things,  we  have  our  own 
house,  and  can  do,  say  and  think  just  what  we 
please.  I  am  more  thankful  each  day  that  we  broke 
away  from  Uncle's  cramped  home-nest ;  for  I  am  al- 
ways disagreeable  when  constrained  to  do,  or  not  to 
do.  And  poor,  dear  old  Uncle  even  denied  us  the 
feminine  luxury  of  discussing  our  neighbors.  1 
verily  believe  he  would  have  controlled  our  thoughts 
had  it  been  possible;  but  they,  thank  God,  are 
sacred. 

"Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before,"  says 
a  wise  writer  and  I  certainly  agreed  with  him  that 
evening. 


70  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

We  are,  as  usual,  entertaining  our  musical  friends, 
when  the  Captain  enters,  followed  by  "de  Jupeans." 

"Dare  he  are,  Mees  Nelsonn."  He  hands  me  a 
letter. 

"  It  is  from  Auntie  ?"  I  exclaim,  tearing  the  envel- 
ope. "  Excuse  me,  please,  I  have  not  heard  from 
them  in  some  time." 

"  He  gan  vait.  I  haf  only  voii  leetle  minute  to 
hear  you  sing ;  you  vil — eh  ?" 

"  Yes  ;"  I  stick  my  letter  in  my  belt,  "  but  what  is 
your  hurry  ?  " 

"Pizness  letters,  vot  must  pe  wrote  for  de  morn- 
int's  mail.  Come,  you  sing  '  Marguerite ' — he  ish  so 
sad  und  scheet." 

He  disappears  with  the  last  strains  of  the  song, 
and  our  other  guests,  who  usually  follow  his  exam- 
ple, do  likewise.  The  Scotchmen,  however,  beg  to 
remain;  and,  as  they  have  just  entered,  we  can 
hardly  refuse. 

"  I  must  read  my  letter,"  I  say,  opening  it  again. 
It  is  short,  and  to  the  point : 

DEAR  NEL : — 

Your  Uncle  has  taken  the  Florida  fever,  and  in- 
sists on  spending  the  winter  with  you.  We  start 
day  after  to-morrow,  and  will  probably  reach  you 
as  soon  as  this.  Engage  board  or  furnished  rooms 
for  us,  and  oblige,  AUNTIE." 

"  ' Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us  !  " '  I 
cry  in  horror. 

"What  has  happened  ?"  all  ask  in  alarm. 

"  Something  awful !  "  I  answer  in  despair. 

"  Is  Uncle  ill,  or  dead  9"  asks  Bess. 

"  Worse  than  that — far  worse.  He  is  coming  to 
spend  the  winter  with  us !" 


A 'TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  71 

•'Merciful  heavens  !"  she  cries,  "what  have  we 
done  to  deserve  such  terrible  punishment  ?" 

"  And  only  think,"  I  continue  mournfully,  "  he 
may  remain  till  Spring.  I  expect  them  to-morrow. 
Oh,  I  wish  dear  old  Peter  was  hear  !  I  know  he 
would  help  us  out  of  the  '  de-fik'ulty.' " 

"Perhaps  we  can  aid  you,"  suggests  Mr.  Kieth. 

"  Command  us,  Miss  Kieth,"  says  Kenneth.  "We 
would  gladly  serve  you." 

"Would  you  ?  I  should  be  eternally  grateful.  You 
see,  Uncle  is  terribly  eccentric,  which,  of  course,  is 
very  trying.  You  must  humor  his  whims,  or  he  will 
dislike  you  intensely,  and  take  no  trouble  to  disguise 
his  feelings.  Then,  he  is  so  very  industrious,  that 
if  he  comes  down  here  with  nothing  to  do,  he  will 
torment  us  beyond  endurance.  Now,  that  I  have 
told  the  simple  truth,  can  you  make  the  sacrifice  ?" 

"Of  course  we  can." 

"Remember,"  I  continue,  byway  of  warning,  "he 
is  very  disagreeable ;  he  will  think  nothing  of  call- 
ing you  chuckle-head,  idiot,  or  even  fool  /" 

"  '  What's  in  a  name  ?'  "  quotes  Mr.  Kieth. 

"And  you  will  honestly  try  to  keep  him  away 
from  us  ?" 

"  Yes ;  we  will  take  him  tarpoiiing,  and  encour- 
age him  to  swear  at  the  big  fish,  instead  of  our- 
selves. In  fact,  we  shall  tire  him  so  completely 
that  he  will  gladly  retire  early  ;  and,  as  your  West- 
ern poet  would  say,  'the  subsequent  proceedings 
will  interest  him  no  more.'  " 

"Well,"  I  return,  full  of  gratitude,  "if  you  do  so 
much  in  the  cause  of  helpless  womankind,  I  am 
sure  you  will  be  properly  rewarded  above." 

"  I  expect  an  earthly  recompense,"  remarks  Ken- 
neth, with  a  sly  look  at  Bess. 


72  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

" Blessed  are  they  that  expect  nothing;"  laughs 
she,  "for  they  shall  not  be  disappointed." 

"  I  do  not  know  where  to  put  them,"  I  continue, 
"  unless  we  give  them  this  room ;  and  that  would 
break  into  our  gatherings," 

"  Why,"  says  Bess, "  they  can  have  our  room,  and 
we'll  sleep  here.  The  boys  can  help  us  move  things 
to-morrow." 

"  Don't  worry  too  much,"  says  Kieth,  as  he  says 
good-night. 

"Very  comforting  advice,  if  one  could  follow  it," 
I  return  mournfully.  "  I  unfortunately,  am  not  a 
strong-minded  female." 

"I  should  never  call  you  a  clinging  vine,"  he 
laughs. 

"Hardly — though  I  greatly  admire  the  sturdy 
oak." 

"Still,  you  never  cling." 

"  No,  I  like  independence." 

"  But  the  oak  loves  the  vine." 

"  Perhaps — but  good-night,  and  many  thanks  for 
your  timely  assistance." 


CHAPTER   XII. 


"  Men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves."—  Young. 

ONE  of  Uncle's  peculiarities  is  a  great  aversion 
to  spider-webs,  dirt-dauber's  nests,  flies,  mos- 
quitoes and  insects  of  any  kind.  Auntie,  owing  to 
her  weak  eyes  and  disinclination  for  hard  work,  is 
not  so  pronounced.  If  the  breakfast  table  was  liter- 
ally covered  with  ants,  or  the  wall  and  ceiling  grace- 
fully draped  with  cobweb,  she  remained  blissfully 
unconscious  of  her  sins  of  omission  till  rudely 
awakened  to  their  enormity  by  her  grumbling  spouse. 
So,  with  a  lively  recollection  of  his  keen  eyes  and 
sharp  tongue,  we  sweep,  dust  and  scrub  our  abode. 
There  is  not  a  servant  in  the  neighborhood,  so  we 
set  manfully  to  work,  Syd  and  George  helping 
us. 

The  Captain,  who  went  "wid  de  steamer,"  prom- 
ised to  devote  himself  to  our  relative  on  the  return 
trip,  and  our  Scotchmen,  I  know,  will  be  towers  of 
strength. 

I  am  afraid  I  am  really  learning  to  like  my  enemy. 
He  has  been  so  kind  and  considerate,  so  thoughtful 
and  tender,  that  at  times  I  almost  forget  that  horrid 
letter. 

In  due  time  the  steamer  whistles,  and  we,  attend- 
ed by  the  whole  school,  rush  to  the  wharf. 

Auntie  sheds  a  few  tears  of  joy  as  she  warmly 
embraces  us ;  but  Uncle,  after  a  cold  little  peck  up- 


74  TWO    LITTLE   MAIDS. 

on  our  foreheads,  looks  suspicious,  as  he  says, 
grumpily  : 

"What  the  dickens  have  you  been  doing  with 
yourselves  since  you  left  ?  You  actually  look 
happy." 

"We  are,"  retorts  saucy  Bess. 

"Nothing  like  occupation,"  I  reply,  trying  to 
avert  a  homily. 

"Why,  who  is  that?"  cries  Bess,  in  surprise. 
"Why,  it  can't  be — yes,  it  is " 

"  Are  you  surprised  to  see  me  ?"  Mr.  King  looks 
searchingly  into  my  sister's  coquettish  face,  as  he 
warmly  presses  her  little  hand. 

"  Yes ;  "  she  answers,  "  but  delighted !  " 

"  You  might  have  said  you  were  coming,"  I  re- 
mark, wondering  where  on  earth  he  will  dispose  of 
himself. 

Mr.  Kieth,  whom  I  sometimes  fancy  is  a  mind- 
reader,  says  pleasantly : 

"As  M—  -  cannot  boast  of  a  hotel,  Mr.  King,  I 
hope  you  will  share  our  lodgings.  We  are,  I  pre- 
sume, here  for  the  same  sport,  so  must  necessarily 
prove  congenial  spirits." 

"  You  are  very  kind "  begins  Mr.  King. 

"  Not  at  all,"  interrupts  the  other.  "Kenneth  and 
I  are  just  longing  for  another  fellow  to  listen  to  our 
big  fish  stories.  Say  yes,  and  we'll  conduct  you  in 
ctate  to  our  floating  palace,"  making  a  grandilo- 
quent gesture  towards  their  launch. 

"  Of  course  he'll  say  yes  ;"  laughs  Bess,  "  and  be 
thankful  for  the  opportunity.  Good-by,  you  may 
all  come  up  after  supper." 

"Who  are  those  young  chuckle-heads?"  asks 
Uncle,  scowling  upon  their  retreating  forms. 

"  They  are  Scotch,"  1  return  shortly. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  75 

"  Umph !  You  seem  pretty  thick,  considering 
you've  not  known  them  three  months." 

"Yes,"  I  answer  sweetly,  "they  have  been  most 
kind — lately — and  we  appreciate  their  efforts  accord- 
ingly." 

"  Pshaw  !  I  don't  approve  of  intimacy  with  per- 
fect strangers.  You  know  I  objected  to  this  cussed 
project  of  yours,  from  the  very  beginning •" 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did — but  just  look  at  that  alli- 
gator pear  tree !  isn't  it  a  beauty  ?  And  did  you 
ever  see  anything  prettier  than  that  tall  waving 
bamboo  ?" 

"Oh  they  look  well  enough,  but  such  taste !  I 
tried  to  eat  a  sour-sop  last  night.  You  needn't 
think  to  stuff  me  with  these  wretched  fruits  !  As 
for  your  precious  guava,  the  very  smell  will  knock 
a  man  down.  I  would  not  give  one  good  old  Vir- 
ginia apple  for  all  your  alligator-pears,  custard- 
apples  and  mangoes  in  Christendom  !" 

"  Hush  !"  I  laugh,  "  you  will  be  converted  in  less 
than  a  month." 

They  are  greatly  surprised  when  we  take  them  to 
our  own  cozy  home;  and  Uncle  fuss.es  and  fumes.  He 
did  not  expect  to,  and  will  not  settle  down  on  us  for 
the  winter,  unless,  indeed,  he  furnishes  everything; 
if  not,  he  will  return  home  on  the  next  boat.  So  I 
pacify  him  with  a  promise  to  share  expenses. 

The  poor  fellow  growls  as  much  as  ever  ;  nothing 
escapes  him.  But  then,  that  is  his  normal  condi- 
tion. I  am  amused,  though,  at  supper,  when  he 
hands  his  saucer  to  be  refilled  with  guavas,  not 
knowing  'twas  the  despised  fruit  he  had  so  roundly 
rated. 

"  Now  this,"  he  remarks,  as  he  critically  surveys 
the  beautifully  colored  fruit,  from  .which  all  seeds 


76  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

had  been  extracted,  "  is  quite  eatable.  Reminds 
me  somewhat  of  strawberries.  What  do  you  call 
it?" 

"  Guava,"  laughs  Bess. 

"  Pshaw !  You  cannot  fool  me.  What  is  it, 
Nel  ?  " 

How  disgusted  he  was  !  Sat  there  growling,  at 
everything  under  the  sun.  He  swore  that  oranges 
were  nothing  more  than  sweetened  water;  mangoes 
a  mixture  of  tow,  sugar  and  turpentine ;  avocado 
pears  soap ;  cocoanuts,  bananas  and  pineapples, 
indigestible  stuff  unfit  for  the  stomach  of  any  de- 
cent man." 

I  was  not  sorry  when  a  stream  of  company  inter- 
rupted this  tirade. 

"What  are  those  people  coming  here  for? "he 
demands  crossly. 

"  Oh,"  I  answer,  "  we  have  company  every  even- 
ing." 

"  Umph  !    I  hope  they  do  not  stay  late  ?" 

"Not  very.  We  usually  get  to  bed  by  eleven 
o'clock." 

"Well,  I'll  be-doggoned  if  I'm  going  to  sit  up  that 
late  !" 

"Why,  no.  Go  to  bed  when  you  like — we  won't 
mind,' 

He  talks  pleasantly  enough  to  our  friends,  and,  to 
my  surprise,  seems  deeply  interested  in  the  Scotch- 
men. 

"I  say,  Mr.  Kieth,"  he  calls,  "are  you  and  my 
girls  related  ?  " 

"I  do. not  know;"  returns  my  enemy,  "but  hope 
we  may  be," 

"  You  are  from  Scotland?" 

"Yes?" 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH  FLORIDA.  77 

"  Well,  they  have  a  rascally  cousin  over  there, 
that's  just  cheated  them  but  of  a  cool  million." 

"  Really  ?"  much  interested. 

"  Yes,  and  all  because  a  d d  will  got  mislaid. 

We  know,  well  enough,  it  was  made  in  Nel's  favor, 
but " 

"Uncle,"  I  interrupt,  not  wishing  him  to  discuss 
this  subject,  "Mr.  Lindsey  is  anxious  to  take  you 
tarponing  to-morrow ;  will  you  be  too  tired  to 
go?" 

"  Tired  ?  Do  you  take  me  for  an  old  granny  ?  Of 
course  I  will  go !"  and  to  my  relief  they  launch  into 
a  series  of  fish  stories. 

Of  course,  while  they  are  so  good,  I  must  behave 
decently  to  my  enemy ;  and  how  can  I,  when  we 
discuss  property  ? 

Auntie  and  Mrs.  Key  son  are  having  a  quiet  chat 
on  the  sofa,  Bess  and  Mr.  King  are  similarly  en- 
gaged at  the  end  of  the  room — my  enemy  necesarily 
falls  to  my  lot. 

"  So  you  are  a  great  heiress  ?"  he  begins,  looking 
much  interested. 

"  Yes,  minus  the  money." 

"  But  is  there  no  hope  of  finding  the  will  ?  " 

"I  fear  not." 

"  Have  you  seen  him — this  scoundrelly  cousin, 
who  defrauds  you  ?" 

"  How  can  you  ask  ?"  I  return  indignantly. 

"  Why,  you  might  compromise  matters " 

"  Never  !     Either  all  is  mine,  or  nothing  !" 

Just  then  the  clock  strikes  nine.  Uncle  breaks  off 
an  unfinished  sentence  and  starts  for  the  door. 

"All  decent  people  should  be  in  their  beds,"  he  re- 
marks, as  he  disappears  without  a  good-night. 
Auntie  dutifully  follows  in  his  wake. 


78  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

Our  guests  stare  in  mute  amaze. 

"  Shall  we  follow  suit  ?"  asks  Kenneth. 

"  No,"  I  answer.     "  Wait  for  danger  signals." 

"  What  are  they  ?"  he  laughs. 

"  The  first  will  appear  in  a  minute." 

Sure  enough,  one  of  Uncle's  shoes  is  thrown 
heavily  to  the  floor,  shortly  followed  by  it's  fellow. 
Our  more  timid  guests  start  with  dismay  and  depart 
in  haste ;  but  the  Scotchmen  and  King  remain  for 
further  demonstrations. 

After  knocking  down  everything  within  reach, 
he  begins  on  his  poor  old  throat ;  clearing,  scraping 
and  snorting  to  such  an  extent  1  am  afraid  he  will 
break  a  blood-vessel. 

We  enjoy  this  performance  in  silence.  At  last, 
finding  us  still  unmoved,  he  calls  : 

"Nell" 

"Yes,  Uncle." 

"  Have  those  young  fools  gone  yet  ?" 

Our  only  answer  is  a  shout  of  laughter.  Now  he 
begins  again  : 

"  I  say,  girls,  be  sure  you  put  out  the  light  when 
you  go  to  bed — if  you  ever  get  the  chance  to  go." 

"Very  well,  Uncle." 

"We  had  better  go,  boys,"  says  Kieth,  "or  he 
will  dislike  us  too  much  for  further  association." 

"  Then  go  at  once,"  I  say  decidedly.  "He  must 
like  you — our  personal  safety  demands  it.  Good- 
night— and  be  sure  you  charm  him  off  in  the  morn- 
ing." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


"  Men  have  died  from  time  to  time,  and  worms  have  eaten  them,  but 
not  for  love." — Shakespeare. 

TRUE  to  their  promise,  our  Scotchmen  adopt 
Uncle ,  relieving  us  almost  entirely  of  him. 
To  use  his  own  expression,  he  is  so  "  dead  tired  "  on 
reaching  home,  that  he  retires  immediately  after 
supper,  and  is  heard  from  no  more  till  morning. 

Auntie,  who  is  having  a  delightfully  peaceful 
visit,  often  wishes  that  tarpon  fishing  could  last  the 
rest,  of  their  natural  lives. 

Uncle,  surprising  to  relate,  has  taken  a  strong 
fancy  to  our  Scotch  friends — especially  Kieth — and 
never  tires  of  praising  them.  De  Captain,  unfortu- 
nately, is  not  so  favored.  For  Peter  is  what  Auntie 
calls  a  "patient  sitter,"  and,  like  Uncle  himself,  is 
too  dogmatic  and  excitable  for  argument. 

Bess  is  in  her  element,  with  "two  strings  to  her 
bow,"  and  plays  her  cards  well — keeping  both  men 
happy.  I  sometimes  wonder  which  she  prefers,  but 
doubt  if  she  really  knows.  Both  men,  if  I  judge 
correctly,  have  strong,  passionate  natures  and  will 
brook  no  trifling.  I  am  curious  to  see  the  result  of 
this  double  flirtation. 

Auntie  and  Uncle  decline  accompanying  us  to  the 
Sugar-house  dance.  So,  after  an  early  supper,  we 


80  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

join  a  merry  wagon-full  of  young  people,  and  start 
for  the  frolic. 

Loud  sounds  of  dancing  reach  us  long  before  we 
arrive  at  the  brilliantly  lighted  Sugar-house.  They 
are  not  "tripping  the  light,  fantastic  toe,"  neither 
is  it  "fairy-like"  music  which  greets  us  above  the 
wild  shuffle  of  brogans,  and  the  deafening  shouts  of 
"Ladies  to  the  right !  Swing  or  cheat  !  Balance  all ! 
Hands  all  a-round  !  Promenade  all !  First  Couple 
out !  Swing  !  Ladies'  Chain  !"  etc.,  etc. 

We  enter.  Sixteen  couples  are  rushing  through 
a  quadrille.  The  girls  are  gorgeous  in  red,  blue  and 
yellow  calicoes,  profusely  trimmed  in  course  lace 
and  bright  ribbons,  their  hair  hanging  loose  upon 
their  shoulders.  Most  of  the  men  are  mill  hands, 
and  wear  colored  flannel  shirts,  with  their  panta- 
loons stuffed  into  long,  rawhide  boots. 

An  old  darkey  scrapes  his  violin,  another  picks 
the  banjo,  while-  a  little  negro  boy  strikes  the  tri- 
angle. Set  follows  set,  in  rapid  succession.  Round 
dances  are  unknown.  We  do  not  join  the  dancers ; 
indeed,  personal  safety  demands  that  we  keep  at  a 
respectful  distance  from  this  crowd  of  heavy  shoes. 
It  is  real  enjoyment,  though  to  watch  the  little  airs 
and  graces  of  these  rustic  belles,  the  awkward  ad- 
vances of  their  admirers,  and  the  good  natured  fun 
so  prevalent  among  them  all. 

By-and-by,  the  girls  declare  themselves  "plumb 
tired  out,"  and  insist  on  resting  "  a  spell."  A  man, 
whose  grey  flannel  shirt  is  decorated  with  bright 
red  trimmings,  who  wears  new  and  creaky  boots, 
.and  flourishes  a  yellow  silk  handkerchief,  now  an- 
nounces supper.  There  is  a  wild  scramble  for  the 
supper  room.  But  he  of  the  red  trimmings  guards 
the  door,  permitting  only  a  limited  number  to  pass. 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  81 

When  these,  being  satisfied,  return,  he  announces, 
"  Them  thet  hes  et  will  please  set  down,  an'  them 
thet  is  ter  eat  kin  step  this  way." 

While  the  dancers  are  feasting,  Peter  and  Mr. 
Kieth  approach  the  fiddler  and  ask  some  question; 
he  looks  puzzled,  shakes  his  head,  then  hands  his 
instrument  to  Peter.  De  Captain  begins  playing  an 
exquisite  waltz. 

"  Can  you  resist  that  ?"  asks  my  enemy. 

"Who  could?"  I  return  as  we  glide  over  the 
rough  boards. 

The  others  soon  join  us. 

Mr.  Kieth  is  a  delighful  partner;  we  seem  to  float 
rather  than  touch  the  floor. 

"  How  lovely !  "  I  exclaim,  as  the  music  ceases. 
"  I  could  go  on  forever !" 

"Come  outside;"  he  whispers,  "the  moon  is  per- 
fect." 

He  throws  a  wrap  about  me,  and  we  walk  slowly 
down  the  road  till  we  reach  the  calm,  moon-lit 
creek.  An  old  oak  grows  at  the  water's  edge,  and 
to  it  is  fastened  a  tiny  boat.  "Get  in;  "  says  my  com- 
panion. "  I  will  row  you  up  the  stream." 

On  we  go,  scarcely  uttering  a  word;  so  completely 
are  we  bewitched  by  the  wierd  beauty  of  our  sur- 
roundings. 

"  Nel,"  he  says,  as  we  leave  the  boat  and  turn 
towards  the  house,  "  you  know  I  love  you." 

"  Hush  !"  I  exclaim  impatiently.  "  You  are  spoil- 
ing everything." 

"  But  love,  you  must  marry  me  some  day." 

"  Marry  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear." 

"  I  would  see  you  in  the  lower  regions  first !"  I  cry 
hotly.  "  You  are  adding  -insult  to  injury,  sir  !  " 


82  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"  Explain  your  words,  Miss  Kieth,"  his  tone  is  po- 
lite, but  commanding.  "  You  have  insinuated  too 
much." 

He  certainly  acts  the  injured  man  to  perfection. 

"Explanations  are  needless!"  I  return  in  lofty 
scorn.  "You  have  treated  me  as  no  gentleman 
would,  and  now  I  hate — yes,  actually  loathe  you  !" 
I  withdraw  my  hand  from  his  arm,  and  for  the  next 
few  minutes  we  stand  and  glare  angrily  at  each 
other.  Then  to  my  utter  disgust,  he  breaks  into  a 
hearty  laugh. 

"Well,  "  I  remark  dryly,  when  he  had  somewhat 
recovered,  " I  hope  you  enjoy  the  situation,  /see 
nothing  to  laugh  at." 

"I  know,"  he  returns  apologetically,  "I  should 
become  tragic — threaten  to  cut  my  throat,  blow  my 
brains  out,  or  some  such  bosh — but  you  must  excuse 
me.  I  never  could  do  the  correct  thing." 

"  Why  do  you  laugh  ?"  I  ask  indignantly.  "  If  you 
really  love  me " 

"That's  just  why,"  he  laughs  again.  "I  know 
perfectly  well  that  you  return  my  love " 

"I  do  not!" 

"And  are  overpowering  me  with  ugly  names  sim- 
ply because  you  fancy  I've  wronged  you.  Come, 
now,  honor  bright,  don't  you  ?" 

"Fancied  !  can  you  deny " 

"  I  deny  nothing — haven't  the  remotest  idea  what 
crime  you  accuse  me  of — but  I  know  you  love  me, 
and  will  one  day  tell  me  so." 

"  Never ! " 

"  Yes  you  will,  and  I  feel  sure  that  you — not  1— 
will  do  the  final  lovemaking." 

"  I  shall  leave,  before  you  insult  me  further?"  1 
exclaim,  starting  for  the  house. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  83 

"  This  is  nonsense,  Nel,"  he  turns  in  a  perfect  good 
humor.  "  You  will  be  my  wife  within  a  year,  so 
you  may  as  well  accept  the  inevitable." 

"  I  shall  never  be  your  wife !  I  despise  you 
utterly." 

"  Restrain  your  loving  epithets ;  they  will  hurt 
you  fearfully  by-and-bye." 

"  You  are  mean,  cowardly,  and  unmanly  !" 

"Remember,"  he  warns,  "you  shall  pay  me  in 
kisses  for  all  of  this." 

"And  if  you  were,  the  last  man  on  earth,  I  wouldn't 
marry  you  !" 

"My  dear  child,  there  is  no  use  exhausting  your- 
self. I've  made  up  my  mind,  and  shall  win  you. 
Nothing  you  say  can  alter  me.  And  you — when  you 
recover  from  this  foolish  prank — will  love  me  ardent- 
ly. You  do'  now,  but  would  die  before  you'd 
own  it." 

"How  I  wish,"  I  exclaim  in  despair,  " you  were 
twenty  years  younger !" 

I  am  terribly  angry  at  being  taken  possession  of 
so  calmly ;  indignant  that  he  won't  understand  how 
I  regard  his  past  unkindness,  and  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted that  I  cannot  force  him  to  acknowledge  his 
outrageous  conduct. 

"  I  understand,"  he  remarks  leisurely,  "it  would 
give  you  keen  joy  to  punch  my  head — would  it  not  ?' 

"Yes,"  I  admit,  with  candor. 

"Well,  when  we  are  married " 

"If  you  do  not  let  me  alone,  I  will — I  will " 

"For  heaven's  sake,  don't  cry  !" 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  shed  one  tear  for  you  ? 

"Yes.  You  will  shed  any  quantity,  when  you 
get  home.  I  bet  a  tarpon  your  eyes  are  red  tomor- 
row." 


84  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 


"  You  are  a  brute  !    A  horrid- 


"Vy,  dare  dey  ish !"  exclaims  Peter;  and  I  run 
joyfully  to  meet  him. 

They  are  all  ready  to  start  back,  he  informs  me, 
so  we  hurry  to  the  wagon  and  are  soon  driving 
homeward. 

"  Let  me  sit  by  you,  Captain  ?"  I  beg. 

"  All  ride  !"  he  answers,  with  a  pleasant  laugh. 

"  I  have  a  long  account  against  you,"  whispers  my 
enemy,  as,  passing  me,  he  settles  down  between 
Bess  and  Miss  Lang. 

The  air  is  cool,  for  it  lacks  but  a  week  to  Christ- 
mas. I  draw  my  wrap  more  closely  about  me,  and 
listen  patiently  to  Peter's  funny  talk.  The  dear  fel- 
low is  quite  scientific,  and  just  now  is  giving  me  a 
lengthy  dissertation  on  "  de  daclination  ob  de  nort 
star,  de  rorepory  allis  and  de  sun  spots." 

I  lend  one  ear  to  Peter,  the  other  to  the  gay 
crowd  behind.  Bess  is  flirting  outrageously,  and 
the  others  are  no  better.  I  turn,  and  give  them  a 
stern  look ;  but  good,  indulgent  old  Peter  says  : 

"Let  dem  alone.  Dey  haffin  goot  dimes;  he  ish 
nottings." 

They  beg  Mr.  Kieth  and  me  for  a  duet,  but  I  re- 
fuse. He  then  offers  to  sing  alone,  "  provided  our 
prima  donna  will  turn  her  face."  I  comply,  being 
overpowered  by  numbers;  and  he  meanly  looks 
straight  into  my  eyes  as  he  sings  "  My  Queen." 

Music  affects  me  powerfully ;  and,  though  I  des- 
pise myself  for  relenting,  I  am  drawn,  irresistably, 
to  the  singer. 

He  sings  for  me  alone  and  every  note  thrills  my  very 
soul !  But  oh !  I  am  so  disgusted  with  his  baseness, 
my  weakness,  the  Captain's  science  and  all  the  gay 
clatter,  that  I  am  thankful  when  we  reach  home. 


A  TALE   OP   SOUTH  FLORIDA.  85 

"  My  enemy  springs  forward  to  assist  me,  but  I 
turn  to  Peter. 

"I  will  see  you  in  the  morning,"  he  says  laughing 
lightly. 

"You  will  not ;  I  shall  be  too  busy," 

But  see  him  I  did.  School  had  just  begun  when 
he  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

Greatly  against  my  will,  I  step  forward  and  ask  : 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"To  examine  your  eyes,"  he  returns  coolly. 
"  Yes,"  after  a  critical  inspection,  "you  did  cry  last 
night." 

"What  right  have  you " 

"Now,  sweetheart " 

"  My  name  is  Kieth  /"  I  cry  in  great  wrath. 

"  So  is  mine ;  so  you  need  only  change  the 
Miss." 

"  Go!"  I  cry,  rudely  closing  the  door  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


"  Tis  well  to  be  off  with  the  old  love, 
Before  you  are  on  with  the  new." 

O  ATUKDAY  afternoon  I  steal  out  to  finish  a  little 

0  sketch  I  am  making  for  Auntie's  Christmas 
present. 

Regardless  of  red  bugs,  I  sit  flat  upon  the  ground, 
am  soon  completely  absorbed  in  my  work. 

Suddenly,  voices  approach,  and  their  owners, 
unconscious  of  a  listener,  seat  themselves  within 
hearing.  How  embarrassing !  But  what  can  I  do  ? 

1  am  compelled  to  finish  my  work,  for  this  is  my 
last  leisure  day. 

To  be  sure,  I  might  move;  but  this  is  my  most  advan- 
tageous position.  Shall  I  sacrifice  art  to  good  man- 
ners? No.  I  determine  to  "turn  a  deaf  ear,"  and 
succeed  admirably,  until,  in  a  moment  of  excite- 
ment, they  raise  their  voices,  and  I  discover  that 
Bess  and  Mr.  King  are  enjoying  what  they  fondly 
suppose  to  be  a  tete-a-tete. 

I  clear  my  throat  and  give  a  warning  cough,  but, 
as  they  are  too  deeply  engaged  to  observe  these 
warnings,  I  am  forced  to  resign  myself  to  the  un- 
enviable position  of  an  eavesdropper. 

' '  Now,  do  not  be  absurd !" 

"  Absurd  ?  "  he  answers.  "  I  have  been  as  patient 
as  Job  !  Human  nature  rebels  against  such  treat- 
ment. Surely  you  can  choose  between  us.  Come, 
which  is  it  ?" 


A  TAL.E  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA-.  87 

"How  can  I  tell?"  returns  my  provoking  sister. 

"Does  your  heart  speak  for  neither?" 

"Honestly,  it  does  not;  I  am  so  fond  of  both, 
that  it  is  a  regular  case  of  '  how  happy  could  I  be 
with  either,  were  t'other  dear  charmer  away.' ' 

"You  are  trifling.     You  know  I  love  you " 

"  You  have  told  me  often." 

"  And  you  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

"Yes — some  day." 

"  Then  why  flirt  so  openly  with  another  ?" 

"I   am  not    flirting — only    having  a  good  time. 

Surely  you  are  not  so  selfish  as  to  spoil  fun  ?" 

"  Then  why  not  tell  him  of  our  engagement  ?  He 
is  desperately  in  love ;  perhaps  you  will  throw  me 
over  and  take  him  !  " 

"Now  don't  be  worrying.  You  know,  very  well, 
I  never  pretended  to  love  you — only  promised  to 
try.  If  you  were  content  then  why  grumble  now  ? 
Frankly,  I  do  not  love  either  of  you,  but  am  wonder- 
fully fond  of  both." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  are  not  the  girl  I  thought  you " 

"  Oh  well,  if  yon  are  tired  of  what  you  are  pleased, 
to  term  our  engagement,  I  am  agreeable;  do  not 
trouble  yourself  to  be  stiff  and  unfriendly,  for  it  will' 
have  no  effect." 

"You  are  a  heartless  flirt !" 

"  What,  beginning  already  ?  Why  can  we  not  be 
dear,  good  friends  without  this  nonsense  ?" 

"Do  you  you  think  I  enjoy  seeing  you  engrossed 
by  that  Scotchman?" 

"  Why  not  ?    He  is  very  handsome  !  " 

"  Yes,  too  handsome !" 

"You  should  feel  proud  that  your  sweetheart  is  so 


88  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

admired.  Now  I  am  charmed  when  girls  think  you 
nice.  I  take  it  as  a  personal  compliment ;  for  you 
know,  you  belong  to  me.' 

"And  you  to  me?" 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  you  must  not  become  jealous,  and 
disagreeable." 

"  I  will  be  anything,  put  up  with  anything,  if  you 
are  only  sweet !" 

"Well,  aint  I  always  sweet?  " 

"No,  you  precious  little  humbug  !  " 

"You  had  better  hush,  if  you  can  say  nothing 
nicer  than  that.  We  must  go  home  anyhow,  for  the 
sun  is  almost  down." 

Their  voices  gradually  die  away,  and  I  am  alone 
once  more.  So  this,  then,  is  the  situation — two 
lovers,  and  no  decided  preference.  How  will  it  end  ? 
I  finish  my  work,  and  walk  slowly  homeward.  Only 
three  days  before  Christmas,  and  so  very  much  to 
be  done ;  a  tree  for  the  children,  decorations  for  the 
school-housee,  suitable  music,  and  a  number  of 
other  things.  But  then,  comes  two  weeks' 
rest. 

The  steamer  is  just  in,  and  Peter  is  walking  up 
the  street  beside  a  tall,  slender  woman.  "  Oh,  my 
prophetic  soul !"  Can  she  be  Mrs.  Lef on  ?  We  ap- 
proach. 'Tis  she;  a  wave  of  disappointment  sweeps 
over  my  soul.  I  have  an  unaccountable  dread  of 
this  fair,  calmly  possessive  widow.  Of  course  I  don't 
believe  in  dreams,  but  somehow 

"  Good-evening,  Miss  Kieth,"  she  says,  in  her 
cool,  sweet  voice. 

I  shake  her  daintily  gloved  hand,  but  cannot  ex- 
press pleasure  at  seeing  her. 

"  Where  will  you  stop  ?'' I  ask,  remembering  my 
manners.  "We  will  call  in  a  few  davs." 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  89 

"  At  Mrs.  Keyson's,  for  the  present,  but  will  visit 
around  generally,"  she  returns. 

"I  am  sorry/'  I  say,  lying  politely,  "we  are  too 
crowded  to  have  you  with  us." 

"  Yes,"  she  returns  coolly,  "  I  always  stay  in  the 
Captain's  house.  I  bring  my  cook,  and  keep  house 
regularly." 

"  What  a  pity  that  I  have  usurped  your  place  !" 
She  gives  me  a  searching  glance,  but  deciding  my 
remark  is  innocent,  replies  quietly,  "I  am  content. 
Of  course  it  was  unavoidable,  and  the  Captain  did 
not  know  I  would  object.  Ah,  here  we  are  at  your 
gate — good-night !  I  will  expect  you  soon." 

How  tiresome  !  I  wonder  how  long  she  will  stay  ? 
Of  course  she  will  monopolize  "  de  Captain,"  and  so 
throw  me  still  more  with  my  enemy.  His  manner 
is  so  cool  and  aggravating  that  it  almost  maddens  me; 
for  he  insists  that  I  love  him,  and  only  laughs  when 
I  vow  that  I  detest  him.  Resist  as  I  may,  he  is 
always  victorious,  and  so  exasperatingly  good- 
natured  ! 

I  am  bound  to  confess  that  he  possesses  a  strange 
power  over  me ;  his  voice  draws  me  irresistibly. 
And  when  he  sings,  I  love  him  intensely,  and  long 
to  throw  my  arms  about  him  and  have  him  draw 
me  close,  close  to  his  heart.  But,  through  it  all,  I 
never  forget  he  is  my  enemy.  Though  he  assumes 
the  air  of  an  accepted  lover,  and  tvill  call  me  "  Nel," 
he  has  never  attempted  to  touch  me — for  which  I 
am  devoutly  thankful — but  teasingly  declares  I  shall 
pay  exorbitant  interest  later  on.  I  am  under  ever- 
lasting obligations  for  his  kindness  to  Uncle ;  and 
then,  what  can  a  poor  girl  do  when  a  handsome 
man  assumes  such  masterful  possession  ? 

The  Captain  drops  in  for  a  few  moments  after  sup- 


90  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

per  to  ask  if  Mrs.  Lefon  may  join  our  Indian  ex. 
cursion. 

I  tell  him  candidly  that  I  will  not  enjoy  it  and 
would  rather  not  go. 

"  Veil  den,  spose  ve  not  see  de  Injunts  dis  time, 
but  vait  for  de  green  corn  dance  ?" 

"  When  is  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  long  in  de  sphring,  ven  de  rostin-years 
coom.  Dey  haf  pig  doins  at  dot  dance,  und  he  last 
tree  day  und  night !  You  like  him— eh  ?" 

"  Very  well.  Of  course  I'm  disappointed,  but  can 
manage  very  well  without  the  trip." 

"  No  indeeds  !  me  got  noter  drip — ve  go  up  de  riv- 
er, und  camp  two  tree  day  at  Fort  T .  Vot  you 

dinks  mit  him  ?" 

"  Oh  that  will  be  lovely  !    Just  our  same  crowd  ?" 

"  Und  Mees  Lefon." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  she'll  have  to  come." 

"Me  ferry  sorry — but,"  with  a  quaint  little  shrug, 
"  vot  kin  I  do  ?  Vot  for  you  not  lof e  her  ?  Se  fine 
vomans." 

"Why,"  I  laugh,  "because  she  takes  you  away 
from  me.  Do  you  think  I  like  that  ?" 

"You  know  I  lofe  but  you  !"  he  exclaims,  blush- 
ing hotly. 

"  But  I  know  you'll  marry  her,  one  of  these  days." 
I  answer  teasingly. 

"  Neffer  !  I  vont  none  but  you,  und  you  I  can 
not  haf  !" 

"'Actions  speak  louder  than  word."  '  I  laugh. 
"  What !  going  already  ?  I  wish,  you  a  charming 
evening,  with  the  fair  widow." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


"  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods."— Byron. 

AWAY  we  steam,  up  stream.  The  Indians  were 
true  to  nature  in  calling  this  lovely  stream 
"  Caloosahatchee  "  —  "  beautiful  river."  Beautiful 
Island  and  her  sister  keys  are  far  behind,  and  the 
river  narrows  at  every  bend.  The  low  banks  are 
completely  covered  by  tropic  vegetation ;  lofty  cab- 
bage palms  mingling  their  graceful  foliage  with  the 
darker  green  of  immense,  moss  draped  cypress  trees 
and  lovely  water  oaks.  Every  bend  discloses  grand 
old  trees,  gracefully  entwined  with  drooping  vines, 
many  of  which  are  filled  with  flowers. 

Brilliant  orchids  adorn  the  trunks  of  both  oaks 
and  palms,  while,  just  at  the  water's  edge,  nestle , 
clusters  of  pure  white  lilies. 

The  waters  are  clear,  possessing  wonderful  reflec- 
tive qualities.  The  grassy  slope,  with  its  thick  mass 
of  foliage,  each  blade  of  grass  and  half  opened 
flower  is  beautifully  reflected ;  so  accurately  indeed, 
that  the  mirrored  object  is  more  attractive  than  its 
counterpart.  Alligators  float  lazily  about,  and  some 
few  are  sunning  themselves  upon  floating  logs  or 
fallen  trees.  Our  sportsmen  are  constantly  shoot- 
ing, but  rarely  hit  one ;  for  Mr.  'Gator,  when  in 
danger,  ducks  his  head,  to  appear  at  a  safer  dis- 
tance. 

We  are  more  successful  with  wild  ducks,  how- 


92  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

ever ;  and  Mr.  King  actually  kills  a  water-turkey, 
which  he  promises  to  have  mounted  for  Bess. 

Uncle  growls  every  time  he  misses,  but  keeps  on 
shooting,  with  pertinacity  worthy  of  a  better 
cause. 

De  Captain  is  completely  absorbed  by  Mrs.  Lefon. 
He  makes  desperate  efforts  to  be  civil  to  me,  but  she 
frustrates  every  attempt. 

"  I  think  she'll  propose  this  trip,"  whispers  Syd. 
"I" '11  keep  an  eye  on  them,  and  we'll  have  some 
fun." 

"  Hush  !  you  rascal !  "  I  say  reprovingly. 

"  Oh,  I  know  a  few  things,"  he  returns  wisely. 

"Well,"  I  continue,  "don't  let  your  thirst  for 
knowledge  lead  you  into  disgraceful  eavesdrop- 
ping." 

"  Now,  Miss  Nel,  you  needn't  preach.  There's  no 
harm  in  a  little  lark  like  that.  I  dearly  love  to 
hear  folks  spoon ;  it  sounds  so  silly,  you 
know." 

"  Dear  boy,  wait  till  you  sprout  a  moustache ; 
your  sentiments  will  change  with  each  downy 
hair." 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for  ?"  he  demands  indig- 
nantly. 

Syd  is  well  versed  in  Indian  lore,  and  tells  me 
much  that  transpired  on  these  now  peaceful  shores 
"  long  before  either  of  us  were  born;  "  but  'tis  hard 
to  believe  that  these  calm  blue  waters  have  really 
witnessed  such  fearful  tragedies. 

We  camp  for  the  night  at  Ft.  D ;  but,  though 

a  voting  precinct,  and  post  office,  the  houses  and 
inhabitants  are  "conspicuous  by  their  absence." 

There  was,  during  the  Indian  wars,  a  line  of  forts 
and  block-houses,  extending  along  the  river  from 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  93 

Fort  T- to  M : — ,  but  not  the  slightest  sign 

of  fortification  exists  to-day.    True,  M possesses 

several  objects  of  historic  interest — the  soldier's 
cemetery,  the  old  cement  cistern,  and  the  date-palm 
planted  by  General  Hancock's  daughter.  But  alack- 
a-day  !  Those  who  "  could  a  tale  unfold,"  which, 
no  doubt  "would  harrow  up  our  souls,"  and,  by  its 
horrible  details  of  rapine  and  massacre  "  cause  each 
particular  hair  to  stand  on  end,"  have  long  since 
departed  to  "  that  undiscovered  country,  whence  no 
traveller  returns." 

We  stretch  our  bars,  for  the  mosquitoes  are  out  ir- 
force ;  then  watch  Mrs.  Lefon  and  de  Captain  pre 
pare  supper.  Strictly  speaking,  he  does  the  work, 
while  she  looks  on  approvingly.  Her  long,  slender 
white  hands  would  look  decidedly  out  of  place 
among  pots  and  pans.  She  is  a  bit  of  Dresden 
china — not  so  useful  as  common  delf,  but  so  fair  to 
look  upon. 

Uncle,  I  am  delighted  to  say,  is  pleased  for  once 
in  his  life ;  for  he  has  proved  the  most  successful 
fisherman  of  our  party.  Ten  minutes  after  landing, 
he  brings  to  camp  a  string  of  black  bass — perfect 
beauties — and  is  in  such  a  splendid  humor,  that  he 
forgets  to  grumble.  But  alas  !  it  is  short  lived.  We 
retire  ;  and  the  drowsy  god  is  just  wooing  me  into 
dreamland,  when  my  rosy  visions  are  rudely  broken 
by  an  angry  snort. 

"  What  the  devil  does  this  mean  ?"  cries  our  ogre. 
'•  I  would  like  to  know  what  idiot  let  these  cussed 
insects  into  my  bar !  No  one  but  a  heathen  or  a 
Florida  cracker  could  sleep  in  such  a  swarm  !  Who 
did  it,  I  say  !" 

We  all  deny  the  offence,  and  assist,  with  much 
warmth  in  routing  the  invaders. 


94  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

I  shrewdly  suspect  Syd,,  but  am  too  sleepy  for  in- 
vestigation. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  we  had  slept,  when  an- 
other terrific  yell  brings  a  head  from  each  bar.  Oh, 
what  a  sight  greets  us  ! 

The  ruddy  camp  fire  reveals  to  our  startled  gaze, 
my  dignified  Uncle,  prancing i  wildly  about  in  un- 
dress uniform,  making  frantic  efforts  to  kill  some 
object  upon  the  ground. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  we  cry  in  alarm. 

"  Snakes  !"  he  roars,  renewing  his  efforts  at  de- 
struction. 

"  Vot  in  de  debble  ish  you  raisin  dis  shindy  for?" 
inquires  Peter  angrily. 

"  U mph  !"  growls  Uncle,  "  I'd  like  to  see  the  man 
that  wouldn't  raise  a  row  to  find  a  rattlesnake  in 
his  bed  !  I  might  as  well  be  in  India  as  this  God- 
forsaken place." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  draw  it  mild  !  "  cries  Syd,  who 
has  just  recovered  from  a  paroxysm  of  laughter. 
"  You  can't  make  us  believe  that  a  snake  deliber- 
ately crawled  into  your  bar  for  companionship. 
Florida  snakes  are  more  discriminating." 

"  Did  you  kill  it  ?  "  Auntie  nervously  enquires. 

"Oh,"  says  Syd,  "it's  dead  enough!  If  it  had 
stayed  there  a  week  'twould  not  have  bitten  him  !" 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it,  you  young  rascal  ?" 

"  I  don't  tell  all  I  know,"  returns  the  saucy  lad. 

"  I  wish  you  would  go  to  bed,"  moans  Bess.  "I 
am  so  sleepy." 

"And  Uncle,"  I  plead,  "please  do  not  rouse  us 
up  again.  I  know  I  shall  have  a  terrible  head- 
ache." 

"  Yes,"  he  growls,  "  you  do  nothing  but  grumble, 
grumble,  grumble  !  If  you  think  1  am  going  to 


A   TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  95 

sleep  with  snakes  and  other  vile  reptiles,  you  are 
mistaken  !  But  that  is  just  the  way  !  some  people 
have  neither  love  nor  gratitude  for  their  own  flesh 
and  blood.  If  you  had  listened  to  me  you  would 
have  stayed  at  home;  then  I  would  not  be  in  this 
cussed  country!  I  wish  to  the  Lord  I  was 
back " 

"  Amen  !"  comes  devoutly  from  Syd. 

"You  young  scoundrel " 

"  Good-night,  Uncle,"  I  say  with  the  vain  hope  of 
quieting  him. 

But  no ;  he  sits  there  grumbling  to  his  heart's 
content;  abusing  us  collectively  and  individually. 
Most  of  the  vituperation  falls  on  poor  little  me  ;  for, 
was  not  I  the  arch-fiend  who,  by  my  glowing  des- 
cription, inveigled  him  to  this  "cussed  country?" 

I  wish,  from  the  depth  of  my  heart  that  I  had 
never  written  a  word  of  praise.  I  never  asked,  nor 
wanted  him  to  come,  and  now — truly,  "  the  way  of 
the  transgressor  is  hard." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


"  The  woman  who  throws  herself  at  a  man's  head,  will  soon  find 
herself  at  his  feet."— Desnoyers. 

NEXT  morning  we  steam  higher  up  the  river  to 
Fort  T ,  where  we  spend  two  days  hunt- 
ing and  fishing.  I  am  glad  I  brought  my  sketch- 
book, for  the  scenery  is  picturesquely  beautiful. 

I  am  surprised,  the  morning  after  our  arrival,  to 
be  joined  by  Mr.  Kieth,  his  hands  full  of  drawing 
material. 

"We  may  as  well  work  together,"  he  remarks, 
seating  himself  near  me.  "  What  point  are  you 
taking?  Ah/'  looking  over  my  shoulder,  "that  is 
good.  I  shall  sketch  those  oaks,  showing  a  glimpse 
of  prairie  beyond  their  grand  old  trunks,  and  the 
flowing  river  as  a  foreground." 

"  j*  nd  those  fleecy  clouds  will  make  a  lovely  back- 
ground." 

"Yes,  they  take  the  place  of  mountains,  I  shall 
copy  mine  in  oils,  and  throw  in  an  Indian  or 
two." 

"  Indeed  !    Where  will  you  procure  a  model  ?" 

"Oh,"  coolly,  "I  shall  accompany  you  to  the  green- 
corn  dance." 

"  What !"  I  cry  with  indignation.  "  Stay  till  June 
just  for  that  ?" 

"  Not  entirely,"  he  answers  calmly.  "  But  really, 
Nel,  do  you  imagine  I  will  leave  until  you  become 
my  wife  ?" 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  97 

"  Then,  you  will  stay  forever  !"  I  cry  hotly. 

"Oh  well,"  much  composed,  "the  climate  suits 
me  admirably." 

"The  climate  is  well  enough;  but  I  am  going  to 
the  mountains  next  summer." 

"So  am  I." 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  do  ?  "  I  ask  in  scorn.  "I 
despise  an  idler." 

"  Present  company  of  course,  excepted." 

"A  man  who  wastes  all  of  his  time  and  brains  (if 
he  has  any)  on  hunting  and  fishing,  is  utterly  con- 
temptible !" 

"  Certainly,  dear  girl,  I  agree  with  you,  heartily." 

"  Then  why  do  it  ?" 

"  I  do  not.  You  forget,  I  am  simply  waiting  for 
my  wife." 

"You  are  the  most  exasperating  creature  I  ever 
met  I" 

"I  can  return  the  compliment,"  he  laughs. 

"  I  tell  you,  once  for  all — 'I  shall  never  marry 
you !  " 

"  You  shall,"  he  returns  quietly.  "And  moreover, 
you  will  repent  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  of  theseQnean 
little  speeches.  When  we  are  married  I  shall— 

"  Let  me  alone  !"  I  cry  desperately. 

"  Nel,"  he  says  tenderly,  "why  struggle  against 
your  fate  ?  You  are  mine — by  that  inscrutable  law 
which  binds  heart  to  heart,  soul  to  soul !  Neither  of 
us  can  sever  the  sacred  cord  which  draws  us  invol- 
untarily together ;  for  Love  is  an  attribute  of  God 
Himself,  and  lives  through  all  eternity  !" 

"  You  would  soon  tire  of  the  sacred  cord  if  you 
lived  with  me ;  for  I  am  closely  related  to  Uncle." 

"  Oh  I  like  a,  woman  with  temper.  We  can  quar- 
rel, then  enjoy  the  sweets  of  reconciliation." 


98  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"  But  I  am  to  become  Mrs.  Peter;  a  handsome 
couple — eh?  " 

"  Nonsense  !    The  widow  is  far  ahead." 

"I  shall  never  believe  it,"  I  return  with  warmth. 

But  alas  for  my  hopes  !  As  we  sit,  busily  work- 
ing, the  couple  under  discussion  slowly  approach. 
We  see  them  from  afar,  even  catching  an  occasional 
word,  but  they  are  too  deeply  engrossed  to  perceive 
us. 

"  It  is  coming ! " 

Syd,  with  light,  cautious  footsteps,  has  just  joined 
us. 

"  I  have  been  watching  them  over  an  hour.  Now 
for  some  fun  !  "  he  smothers  a  laugh. 

"  What  mischief  are  you  up  to  ?"  enquires  Mr. 
Kieth. 

"  Oh  nothin' !"  with  an  innocent  grin.  "  You  just 
wait." 

"Why,"  I  explain,  "Syd  is  vainly  hoping  that 
Mrs.  Lefon  will  propose  to  dear  old  Peter.' 

"  Syd's  head  is  level,"  laughs  my  enemy.  "  Your 
chances  grow  beautifully  less." 

"  Then,"  I  return  feelingly,  "  we  must  watch,  and 
when  she  makes  it  too  hot  for  the  poor  fellow,  rush 
to  the  rescue." 

"Yes,"  admits  Kieth,  "a  man  is  calculated  to 
need  assistance  under  such  conditions." 

"I  say,  Mr.  Kieth,  "exclaims  Syd,"  what  would' 
you  do  if  a  woman — Miss  Nel,  for  instance — should 
tackle  you ! " 

"  Hush,  Syd  !  "  I  cry.    «  Don't  be  silly." 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,"  returns  Kieth,  looking 
straight  into  my  eyes,  "  that  when  Miss  Nel  proposes 
I  shall  accept,  and  expect  you  to  dance  at  our  wed- 
ding." 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  99 

"You  may,  Syd,  when  I  propose  !  "  I  return  with 
dignity. 

"  Oh  I'll  bet  on  you,  Miss  Nel.  I  know  you'll  never 
do  it.  Now,  I,"  in  a  pompous  tone,  "would  not 
marry  a  woman  who  was  so  bold  as  to  do  the  court- 
ing. I'd  scorn  her !" 

"That  depends,"  Mr.  Kieth  laughs.  "But  soft, 
what  is  the  fair  one  saying  ?" 

Our  friends  are  now  sitting  at  the  foot  of  a  giant 
oak ;  and,  though  we  hear  each  word,  we  can  neither 
see  nor  be  seen. 

Syd,  with  the  daring  of  young  America,  is  con- 
stantly reconnoitering ;  and  furnishes  us  with  such 
important  information  as  "  she  looks  fondly  into 
his  eyes — now  she  takes  his  hand — he  wriggles  un- 
easily— moves  farther  from  her — she  follows  with  re- 
lentless speed." 

"You  know,  Captain,"  the  fair  Lillian's  voice 
comes  soft  and  low,  "how  lonely  I  have  been  since 
— since — my — poor " 

"Sobs  into  her  handkerchief,"  Syd  reports,  peep- 
ing from  our  retreat. 

"Yas!"  Peter  exclaims,  much  agitated.  "Me 
know  all  bout  him  !" 

"  And  you  Captain,  dear  Captain " 

"  Mine  Gott !  "  the  poor  fellow  exclaims. 

"  Could  make  it  so  much  easier  for  me,"  she  con- 
tinues plaintively. 

Peter  is  silent  a  moment,  evidently  collecting  his 
wits,  then  asks  boldly  : 

"  Vot  you  vornt  mit  me  ?" 

"  To  marry  me,"  she  returns  calmly,  as  though 
she  had  asked  him  to  dine. 

"Shimmiiiy  crickets  !"  actually  yells  do  Captain. 
"  Vot  you  dakes  me  for  ?  eh  ?  Mans  asks  vomans  to 


100  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

marry  mit  him — he  ish  no  goot  for  voomans  to  ask 
mans  !  No  goot !  No  goot ! ' 

"But  dear  Captain,"  she  goes  on  tenderly,  "I've 
waited  so  long,  and  you  would  not  ask  me — besides, 
you  know,  it  is  almost  leap-year,  when  we  have  a 
perfect  right  to  propose." 

"  I  dontd  gare  !  I  dontd  gare  !  I  neffar  vont  likes 
you  no  more !" 

"Only  think,"  she  pleads  artfully,  "how  many 
nice  German  dishes  I'll  have  cooked  for  you.  You 
know  how  well  I  understand  your  taste." 

"Dot  ish  so,"  he  acknowledges,  softening  slightly. 

'•  And  I  am  rich,"  she  continues  eloquently,  follow- 
ing closely  her  slight  advantage.  "You  need  not 
work  so  hard,  but  spend  long,  beautiful  days  amid 
Love,  music,  and  flowers  !" 

"Lofe?"  he  exclaims,  somewhat  bewildered,  "I 
lofe  not  you.  Nother  vomans  I  lofe  mooch  already. 
Vot  den  ?" 

"What!"  she  cries  indignantly,  "you  love 
another  ?  " 

"  Yas,"  he  returns,  unconscious  of  offence. 

"  Wretched  man  !  Do  you  know  what  you  have 
done  ?" 

"Beats  her  breast  hysterically  !"  reports  Syd. 

"No,"  answers  Peter  innocently,  "  vot  me  done  ?" 

"You  have  wrecked  three  lives  !"  she  cries  im- 
pulsively. "  Do  you  think  I  shall  let  her  marry  you? 
Never !  I'd  see  her  dead  at  my  feet — yes,  this  hand 
should  strike  the  blow — before  she  becomes  your 
wife  !" 

"Now,  den,  dontd  you  get  oxcited,"  says  Peter 
soothingly.  "Se  not  lofe  me  von  leetle  bits — se 
laugh  mit  fun  ven  I  say  '  I  lofe  you.'  See  ?" 

"  Then  dear,  dear  Peter,  let    me  comfort  you.     I 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  101 

will  '.love  and  cherish  you  'till  death  us  do  part,'  " 
she  returns  solemnly. 

"Mees  Lefon,"  he  says  gravely,  "I  can  neffar 
marry.  I  dells  you  von  secret — mine  fader  vos  a 
prince,  und  mine  mudder — vos  not  his  wife.  You 
see  ?" 

"My  own  dear  Peter!"  she  exclaims  tenderly. 
"  Do  you  think  that  would  matter  to  one  who  loves 
you?  You  are  noble,  grand,  a  king  among  men  !'' 

"You  see,"  he  continues,  "I  haf  no  name  to  gif 
you — none  dot  mine  childens  could  wear  mit  honor. 
So  den,  I  vill  neffar  marry — vill  raise  no  childens  to 
curse  mine  memory." 

"Oh  Captain,"  she  exclaims  warmly,  "you  are 
the  grandest,  noblest,  most  self-sacrificing " 

"It  ish  nottings!"  he  interrupts  hurriedly. 
"  Gome  long,  let's  find  de  odder  peoples."  They 
rise,  and  with  their  backs  still  to  us,  walk  quietly 
away. 

"  Well,"  says  Syd,  "what  do  you  think?" 

"  That  Peter  is  the  loveliest  man  in  the  world,  and 
we  the  meanest,  lowest  wretches  for  listening,"  I  re- 
turn warmly. 

"Exactly  my  sentiments,"  says  Kieth.  "Few 
men  could  have  resisted  as  he  did." 

"  1  am  sorry  for  old  Peter,"  remarks  Syd,  "but  the 
widow  needs  no  sympathy.  But  you  know,  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  she  got  him  after  all — unless  your 
pity  becomes  *  akin  to  love.'  " 

"Oh  she's  bespoken,"  laughs  my  enemy. 

"  I  am  not !"  I  cry  hotly.  "  I'll  be  Mrs.  Peter  yet, 
or  die  in  the  attempt." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


•'  A  jealous  man  wishes  himself  a  kind  of  deity  to  the  person  he  loves; 
he  would  be  the  only  employment  of  her  thoughts."— Addi son. 

MRS.  LEFON,  I  am  pleased  to  relate,  has  at  last 
departed.  Poor  Peter  has  been  in  hot  water; 
for,  since  that  unfortunate  proposal,  her  attentions 
have  been  more  marked  than  ever.  She  evidently 
thinks  "while  there's  life,  there's  hope,"  and  will 
not  resign  him  without  a  struggle.  He  has  made 
many  efforts  to  escape  her,  but  who  could  succeed 
against  such  fearful  odds  ?  I,  who  aided  and  abet- 
ted him  in  these  noble  endeavors,  was  utterly  routed, 
and  literally  forced  to  take  a  "  back  seat."  Though 
her  words  were  always  smooth  and  polite,  her  eyes 
said  plainly,  "He  is  mine.  Touch  him  at  your 
peril !" 

Uncle  speaks  of  returning  home,  and  we  do  not 
urge  him  to  remain.  He  has  done  all  in  his  power 
to  render  us  unhappy — and,  but  for  our  Scotchmen 
—would  have  succeeded  beyond  his  expectation. 
They  have  simply  *'  spread  themselves "  in  our 
service — taking  him  off  every  day,  and  actually 
carrying  him  for  a  three  weeks'  cruise  on  their 
yacht ! 

Mr.  King  has  returned,  with  no  more  definite  un- 
derstanding than  when  he  came ;  and  now  Kenneth 
has  the  monopoly 


A  TALE  OP  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  103 

Does  Bess  love  him  ?  If  so.  she  never  shows  it, 
and  only  time  can  tell. 

Dear  old  Peter  is  growing  terribly  jealous  of  my 
enemy. 

"Hetinksyou  pelongs  to  hims !  "  he  exclaimed 
angrily. 

"  But  I  don't,  and  never  shall !"  I  return  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  He  lofe  you  mooch — und  you — you  do  effer-tings 
for  him,  ven  he  sing — you  lofe  him  den  !" 

"I  do  not !"  I  cry,  though  I  have  acknowledged 
the  same  to  myself. 

"  Den  he  mek  you  sing — he  mek  you  look  stwait  in 
his  eyes — he  mek  you  blenty  dings,  like  you  vos  pe- 
long  mit  him  !  " 

"You  are  mistaken  Captain,  I  simply  try  to  please 
all  my  friends  ;  don't  I  always  sing  for  you  ?  " 

"  Ya-a-s,"  he  acknowledges,  "  but  he  go  eff  ry  vere 
mit  you.  I  neffar  gets  you  no  more." 

"  What  nonsense!  You've  been  much  too  busy 
with  Mrs.  Lefon  to  think  of  me." 

"Oh,"  he  cries  delightedly,  "you  jallous  ob  her?" 

"  Of  course,"  I  answer,  humoring  his  vanity. 

"  Den,"  much  pleased,  "if  se  dontd  lofe  dot  Scotch- 
man, se  go  mit  me  on  de  sail  to  nide — eh  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  expected  to  ask  for  your  company. 
This  is  Leap  Year,  you  remember." 

"  Yas,  me  know,"  he  blushes  a  rosy  red. 

"Why  Captain,"  I  cry  in  mischief,  "one  would 
imagine  some  lady  had  proposed  to  you." 

"  Hush  !"  he  cries  in  alarm,  "I  shant  dell  you 
nottings  !  Me  gone — goot-pye  !"  he  seizes  his  hat 
and  rushes  forth,  leaving  me  to  finish  my  laugh 
alone. 

How  shall  I  describe  my  enemy's  crestfallen  look 


104  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

when,  in  my  coolest  manner  I  inform  him  that  I 
have  an  escort,  or  his  indignant  scowl  when  Peter's 
beaming  face  appeared  ? 

Suffice  it  to  say,  the  whole  affair  was  charming. 
With  music,  moonlight  and  flirtation,  who  could  be 
dull? 

And  that  homeward  walk — can  I  ever  forget  it  ? 

Now,  I  cannot  disguise  the  fact,  that  dear  Peter 
is  not  a  graceful  walker.  Having  "  tacked  "  a  great 
deal  through  life,  his  gait,  naturally,  partakes  of 
his  nautical  occupation,  producing  an  uneven 
motion,  more  eccentric  than  beautiful.  However, 
I  possess  the  consoling  knowledge  that  our  appear- 
ance is  striking ;  and  that  I  am  envied  by  more  than 
one  ''female  sister."  As  we  walk  homeward,  deep 
in  the  discussion  of  "  de  moons  ob  Marse,"  Mr.  Kieth 
passes  with  a  conciliatory  "  good-night."  The  Cap- 
tain, quick  as  thought,  slips  his  fingers  to  my 
wrist. 

"  What  do  you  medn  ?  "  I  ask,  as  I  withdraw  my 
hand. 

"  Nottings,"  he  returns,  innocent  of  wrong.  "Me 
just  feel  you  pulse  ven  he  go  py,  to  see  if  he  beat 
some  faster  dan  odder  time — see  ?" 

"  How  dare  you  ?"  I  cry  in  anger. 

"  Oh  Mee  Nelsonn  !"  he  cries  piteously,  "  Don't  you 
vos  cross  mit  me  !  " 

"  Do  not  touch  me,"  I  say  in  my  sternest  voice. 
"  I  cannot  trust  you." 

To  my  mingled  horror  and  amusement,  he  leans 
against  the  nearest  fence,  and  cries  like  a  baby. 

"Hush,  Captain!"  I  cry  in  alarm.  "Come  straight 
along,  or  we'll  have  the  whole  town  looking  on." 

"Me,  don'td  gare !  Me  don'td  gare!"  he  wails, 
'  You  lofe  me  not — you  hates  poor  me !  poor  me  !" 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  105 

"If  you  don't  come  along  this  minute,  "I  say, 
almost  choked  with  laughter  and  mortification,  "  I 
will  never  speak  a  word  to  you  again." 

This  awful  threat  moves  him,  but  nothing  human 
or  divine  can  quiet  his  absurd  cries.  He  follows  me 
home,  .uttering  such  heart-rending  screams  of  re- 
proach aud  entreaty  that  we  become  not  only  the 
laughing-stock  of  our  party,  but  several  respectable 
citizens,  aroused  from  their  slumbers,  throw  open 
their  doors  and  windows  to  inquire  anxiously, 
"What's  that  row  ?  Is  any  body  dead?"  My  feel- 
ings are  better  imagined  than  described  ;  for,  I  have 
laughed  and  scolded  so  much,  that  my  condition  is 
only  a  trifle  less  hysterical  than  Peter's. 

We  reach  home,  and  I  fall  upon  the  steps  and 
laugh  till  I  am  positively  weak. 

"What's  that  infernal  row?"  growls  Uncle  from 
his  bedroom  window. 

"You  had  better  go,  Captain,"  I  manage  to  gasp. 

"Neffar  !"  he  returns  firmly.  "  Here  vill  I  stay  all 
night  till  you  say  you  goot  friends  mit  me  !" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  blamed  old  fool  ?  " 
tenderly  inquires  Uncle. 

"  Good-night,  Captain,  you  may  stay  if  you  like, 
but  I  must  go  in." 

"  Oh,  Mees  Nelsonn  !  vy  vill  you  leave  me  ?" 

"Because  I'm  sleepy — let  go  my  dress  !" 

"  Dear,  scheet  Mees  Nelsonn — " 

"  Leave  that  cussed  fool  and  go  to  bed !"  yells 
my  irate  relative.  "No  decent  woman  would  be 
gallivanting  about  at  this  hour  !" 

"  Good-night,  Captain,"  I  say,  struggling  to  free 
my  skirts  from  his  grasp. 

"Oh,  Mees  Nelsoim  !"  he  pleads,  "say  von  leetle 
vord " 


106  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"  Come  in,  you  jade  !"  Uncle  screams,  at  the  top 
of  his  voice.  "With  a  desperate  effort,  I  free  my 
skirts,  rush  in,  and  close  the  door.  Peter  howls  a 
moment  upon  the  steps,  then  slowly  departs,  mak- 
ing night  hideous  with  his  cries. 

How  we  catch  it  next  day  !     After  exhausting  his 
vocabulary  of  pet  names,  and  abusing  us  for  every 
thing  under  the  sun,  Uncle  determines  to  leave  M  — 
and  poor  Auntie  is   ordered  to    pack  instantly. 

I  regret  that  he  goes  in  anger,  but  oh,  so  glad  the 
visit  is  ended. 

They  left  Friday  morning,  and  Saturday,  just  as 
we  are  up  to  our  eyes  in  house  cleaning,  de  Captain 
enters  with  a  package  under  his  arm. 

".Can  me  see  you,  von  leetle  minute  ?"  he  asks,  a 
look  of  fell  determination  in  his  eye. 

"  Certainly,"  I  answer.     "Have  a  seat." 

Instead  of  accepting  the  proffered  chair,  he  lays 
the  package  upon  my  knee,  saying  resignedly  : 

"Me  pring  him  all  back  already.  You  no  lofe  me 
— den  me  no  keep  de  tings  you  gif  me." 

"Very  well,"  I  answer,  biting  my  lip  to  keep 
from  laughing.  I  open  the  package ;  there  lies  the 
birth-day  and  Christmas  gifts  I  had  given  him 
along  with  several  other  things. 

"  This  calendar  and  collar  box,  I  will  keep ;"  I  say 
gravely,  "but  these  other  things  are  not  mine, — I 
simply  embroidered  them  for  you — 'twas  all  your 
own  material,  you  remember,  so  'twould  be  dishon- 
est for  me  to  keep  your  property."  I  refold  the 
articles  and  hand  them  to  him,  then,  taking  my  re- 
jected presents,  turn  to  leave  the  room. 

Poor  Peter  throws  himself  at  my  feet,  wildly 
clutches  my  garments,  and  begins  his  unique  per- 
formance. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  10? 

"  Oh  Mees  Nelsomi  I  lofe  you  so  ferry  mooch ! 
ferry  mooch  !  Please  don'td  tek  mine  pooty  tings 
away  already  !  I  ish  meesable  !  meesable  !  Neffar, 
some  more,  vill  I  pe  happy  !  Vot  for  you  hates  poor 
me  ?  I  lofe  you  mooch,  so  mooch  !  " 

"Why  Captain,"  I  laugh,  "  you  may  have  your 
pretty  things  back,  if  you'll  only  keep  quiet." 

"Yougif  dem  to  me  ?"  he  asks  eagerly.  "You 
lofe  me  some  little  bit  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Here,  take  your  things,  and 
don't  be  so  foolish." 

' '  Oh  Mees  Nelsonn,  you  ish  so  goot — I  must  gry 
some  leetle  bits.  Just  some  leetle  bits  !" 

"Not  a  bit,"  I  laugh. 

"But  me  ish  so  happy — me  must  gry  leetle 
bits  !  " 

"  Then  wait  till  I  close  the  windows,  or  the  neigh- 
bors will  think  you  crazy  " 

But  in  spite  of  my  efforts,  he  makes  such  a  ter- 
rific row  that  Kieth  and  Kenneth,  who  are  passing, 
stop  to  inquire  if  we  have  a  madman  in  the  house. 
My  enemy  enjoys  the  situation  hugely,  declaring  it 
serves  me  right  for  deserting  him. 

Peter,  presently,  rushes  past  us,  his  face  and  beard 
wet  with  many  tears,  but  a  look  of  supreme  happi- 
ness overspreading  his  moist  countenance. 

•'  Me  so  mooch  happy  !"  he  cries.  "  Me  go  home 
und  gry  some  leetle  bits  more  !" 

"  Poor  old  Peter  !  "  I  laugh. 

"  What  did  you  quarrel  about  ?"  asks  my  enemy. 

"You." 

"Ah!  How  flattering,"  pensively  stroking  his 
moustache. 

"  He  abused  me,  I  suppose,  and  you  were  loyal 
enough  to  defend  me.  Hence — a  quarrel." 


108  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Don't  flatter  yourself!  I  only  defend  my 
friends." 

"  And  we  are  so  much  more  than  friends.  At  any 
rate,  the  enemy  was  routed  with  great  slaughter, 
and  is  willing  for  peace  on  any  terms." 

"  He  cant  be  too  penitent — after  getting  us  into 
disgrace.  You  know  Uncle  left  in  great  wrath.  I 
doubt  his  ever  forgiving  us." 

"  Poor  girl !  but  that  reminds  me — you  know  he 
told  me  of  your  lost  will  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  tried  a  mediumistic  search  ?" 

"No.    I  don't  believe  in  mediums. 

"Nevertheless,  they  possess  strange  power.  I 

saw  a  girl  at  P last  week,  who  will  probably 

develope  into  a  first-class  medium.  Suppose  we  pay 
her  a  visit  ?" 

"  Well,  I  may  run  down  there  next  Friday ;  but 
why  are  you  so  anxious  that  I  find  the  will  ?" 

"  What  a  question  !  Of  course  you  must  have 
your  rights." 

His  conscience,  I  suppose,  begins  to  prick  him. 

"  You  forget  that  my  gain  will  be  — 

"  Another's  loss  ?  No ;  but  he  is  more  able  to 
work  than  you." 

"Thanks.  You  have  grown  awfully  considerate," 
I  say  scornfully,  wondering  if  he  has  an  axe  to 
grind. 

"Now,  what  under  heaven  do  you  mean?" 

"You  certainly  understand  as  well  or  better  than  I. " 

"If  you  do  not  explain,"  he  cries,  as  he  catches 
my  hands,  "  I  shall  kiss  you  !" 

"Oh  no  !"  I  cry  in  terror. 

"Hurry  !"  he  exclaims.  "Even  my  patience  has 
a  limit." 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  109 

"  Oh,  you  horrid  wretch  !    Let  me  go  !" 

He  holds  me  close,  as  he  presses  a  long  tender 
kiss  upon  my  lips. 

"  My  own  !"  he  whispers. 

"  I  am  not,"  I  cry,  as  I  struggle  for  freedom.  "  I 
despise  you  !  You  are  a  mean,  unprincipled 

"That  will  do,"  he  says,  sternly,  as  he  withdraws 
his  arm.  "  Go  !"  he  gives  me  a  little  push,  and  a 
moment  later,  strides  down  the  road  whistling 
"The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me." 

I  don't  care  !  No,  I  am  glad  of  it !  Of  course  he 
knows  that  he  is  spending  my  money,  and  he  must 
know  that' I  understand  it;  then  why  pretend  he 
does  not  ?  Yes,  I  am  glad  he  is  gone.  I  never 
liked  him;  and  then  pretending  to  love  me — per- 
haps he  was  willing  to  marry  me  for  the  sake  of 
easing  his  conscience — but  love — bah  !  We  would 
be  miserable  ;  for  how  can  I  respect  him  when  I  re- 
member that  horrid  letter  ?  Yes,  'tis  better  so.  I 
will  go  to  P —  —  next  week,  and  make  another 
effort  to  find  the  will.  Oh  how  delightful  it  would 
be  to  get  my  money  back,  and  how  mortified  he 
would  feel  if  forced  to  return  it !  Yes,  I  am  truly 
glad  he  is  gone. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven, 

And  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy."— Shakespeare. 

NEXT  week,  true  to  my  resolve,  I  visit  the 
medium. 

She  is  very  young  (barely  sixteen),  slight,  and 
dainty  looking.  Like  all  her  family,  she  is  illiter- 
ate; and  totally  unversed  in  Spiritualism,  Occultism, 
or  even  Magnetism. 

She  does  not  become  entranced;  she  simply  holds 
the  pen  while  some  other  force  writes  the  words. 

Captain  Schneider,  who  has  known  her  family 
for  years,  says  they  are  much  astounded  at  Lula's 
power,  but  will  not  permit  her  to  become  a  profes- 
sional medium. 

We  converse  on  indifferent  topics  for  some  time, 
then  I  remark  casually  : 

"I  have  lost  something — can  you  help  me  find 
it?" 

"I  will  try,"  she  says  obligingly."  but  only  one 
spirit  ever  finds  things  for  me,  and  she  may  not 
come  to-night." 

"I  wish  you'd  try,  for  I  am  very  anxious  to  find 
this  object." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  she  asks. 

I  tell  her  about  the  will. 

"Perhaps,"  she  says,  dipping  her  pen  in  the  ink 
bottle,  and  holding  it  over  a  sheet  of  note  paper, 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  Ill 

"  your  Uncle  may  help  us.  You  know  his  writ- 
ing?"' 

"Yes." 

"Then  I'll  try." 

The  pen  begins  to  move ;  Lula  still  talks  to  me, 
merely  keeping  the  pen  upon  the  lines. 

"Ah,"  she  cries,  looking  down,  "it  is  Mrs.  E> ! 

Mrs.  D —  —  can  you  tell  this  lady's  Uncle,  slu 
wishes  to  communicate  with  him?" 

"Yes,"  writes  the  pen,  then  remains  silent. 

"Why  does  it  stop?"  I  ask. 

"  She  has  gone  to  find  your  Uncle,"  explains  Lula. 

Now  it  begins  again. 

"Look!"  says  the  medium.  I  draw  my  chair 
nearer  and  read,  as  the  pen  traces  these  words  : 

"  DEAR  NEL  : 

The  will  was  thrown,  by  mistake,  into  the  barrel 
of  waste  paper — it,  in  turn,  was  buried  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  garden,  just  beyond  the  chestnut 
tree.  NELSON  KIETH." 

"  Is  it  his  writing  ?"  they  all  ask. 

"  Yes,"  I  return,  much  astonished.  "  May  I  keep 
the  letter  ?" 

"Certainly.  Are  you  satisfied  or  shall  I  try 
again  ?" 

"Perfectly  satisfied — but  I'd  like  to  talk  with  Uncle 
Nelson  if  possible." 

"  He  has  gone,"  she  says,  "  but  may  return  later  ; 
though  I  can't  promise  you  for  certain." 

Presently  it  moves  again,  this  time  in  German . 

"Why  Captain,"  I  cry,  "this  is  surely  for  you— 
none  of  the  rest  of  us  speak  German." 

"So  he  ish!"says  Peter,  eagerly  scanning  each 
word. 


112  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

•'He  ish  mine  foster  mudder.  Eh?  Vot  clot  you 
say  ?"  translating  for  our  benefit.  "  De  vomans  I 
lof  e  ish  in  tanger,  great  tanger  ?  Dell  me  quick  in 
von  hurry  vot  you  means  ?  Eh  ?" 

"  A  tall  fair  woman  threatens  her  life,"  writes  the 
pen,  always  in  German. 

"  Vot  her  name— eh  ?" 

"Lillian  Lefon." 

"  Dot  ish  lies  !  Mees  Lefon  ish  fine  vomans — ferry 
fine  vomans  !  You  ish  not  mine  foster  mudder — 
you  ish  lying  speerits  !" 

"  Good  spirits  never  lie,"  continues  the  unseen 
force.  "  Hast  thou  forgotten,  oh  child,  thy  foster 
sister,  with  the  tiny  scar  on  her  left  ear — the  garden 
you  played  in — the  old  sheep,  Gretchen,  who  ate 
from  thy  hand — thy  mother's  miniature,  which  now 
hangs  from  thy  neck — 

"  Stop  !"  cries  Peter.  "  You  ish  mine  foster  mud- 
der !  But  tell  me,  how  can  I  safe  mine  lofe  ?  Can 
I  do  nottings  ?" 

"  You  shall  assist,  but  another  will  be  more  power- 
ful. God  bless  you,  my  son — farewell,  I  am  called — 
I  see  you  always — farewell !" 

Warning  number  three  !  What  can  it  mean  ? 
How  can  the  fair  widow  harm  me  ?  Of  course  I 
don't  believe  a  word  of  it — but,  why  are  three  of  us 
warned  ?  Will  my  enemy  really  help  to  save  me, 
or — what  utter  nonsense  !  'Twas  only  a  dream, 
and  "  dreams  always  go  by  contraries."  The  Cap- 
tain is  deeply  troubled  ;  though  he  says  but  little,  I 
can  see  the  message  weighs  heavily  upon  him.  But 
the  pen  moves  again,  and  I  forget  everything  save 
the  present. 

"Do  any  of  us  know  you?"   asks  Lula, 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  113 

"  No,"  is  written  in  a  graceful  feminine  hand.  "  I 
died  years  before  you  were  born." 

"  Have  you  a  special  communication  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"Margaret  Nelson  Kieth." 

«  My  great-great-grandmother  ?"  I  ask  in  amaze. 

"  Yes.  It  is  to  you,  Nelson  Kieth,  that  I  speak. 
You  have  made  a  great  mistake;  you  are  trifling 
not  only  with  your  own  heart,  but  that  of  a  good, 
noble  man.  Dissemble  no  longer,  for  he  is  worthy 
of  your  love." 

"  Noble  ?"  I  repeat,  rather  puzzled.  "  How  about 
that  offensive  letter  ?', 

"Find  the  will ;  explanations  will  follow." 

"  But,  if  I  fail  ?  " 

"  You  shall  not  fail.  Farewell.  Be  true  to  your- 
self; remember,  your  happiness  rests  with  you 
alone." 

"  Stay  one  moment !    Does  he '* 

"  I  am  called — farewell !" 

And  to  my  infinite  regret,  the  writing  ceas'es,  and 
the  pen  remains  silent  the  remainder  of  our  stay. 

"Find  the  will,"  says  my  ancestress  ;  and  find  it 
I  will,  if  human  industry,  guided  by  spiritual  in- 
struction ever  succeeds.  I  shall  write  to  my  lawyer 
this  very  night  and  have  him  make  a  thorough 
search.  Fortunately,  Alan  Kieth  gave  instructions 
for  the  old  place  to  be  closed,  saying  that,  as  he 
would  soon  visit  America,  he  preferred  making  his 
own  arrangements  concerning  it.  But  he  has  not 
been  near  it,  for  I  am  sure  they  had  just  crossed 
over  when  we  met  him  at  Jacksonville. 

How  could  my  ancestress  call  him  noble  ? 

Was  she  Margaret  Nelson   Kieth,  that  high-born 


114  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

dame  whom  I  was  taught  to  reverence  ?  Might  it 
not  have  been  some  mischief-making  spirit  ?  Of 
course  spirits  are  like  people  ;  death  cannot  change 
our  immortal  souls.  But  why  need  I  worry  over  any 
of  it  ?  ''  Whatever  is,  is  right,"  and  I  am  fatalistic 
enough  to  take  what  comes  in  a  philosophic  spirit. 

Bidding  good-night  to  the  medium,  I  hasten  to  my 
boarding-house  and  write  my  letter.  Peter  still 
worries  over  his  message,  but  I  am  too  much  occu- 
pied with  other  thoughts. 

Unless  Mrs.  Lefon  becomes  insane,  she  will  never 
so  far  forget  her  calm  dignity,  as  to  chase  me  with 
that  murderous  knife,  so  why  worry  over  the  im- 
possible ? 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


•'  Make  not  thyself  the  judge  of  any  man." — Longfellow. 

I  AM  so  anxious  about  the  will  that   I  am  almost 
sick  from  suspense.     I  had  telegraphed  my  law- 
yer for  information,  and  am  momentarily  expecting 
an  answer. 

Do  I  believe  the  medium's  tale  ?  I  hardly  know  ; 
the  writing  was  certainly  my  Uncle's,  yet — if  this 
prove  true,  what  of  the  other  messages  ?  Is  my 
enemy  really  worthy  of  my  love,  and  will  the  fair 
widow  attempt  my  life  ?  One  is  as  probable  as  the 
other ! 

Apropos  of  my  enemy,  I  have  not  seen  him  lately. 
He  and  Kenneth  are  on  the  upper  river  collecting 
specimens  of  the  Roseate -Spoonbill  and  White- 
Heron.  Alan  declared,  on  leaving,  that  he  should 
sketch  every  pretty  spot  between  this  place  and 
Okeechobee.  I  am  forced,  against  my  will,  to  ac- 
knowledge that  he  is  not  an  idler,  but  a  thorough 
and  artistic  student.  He  could  be  so  nice  if  he 
would  only — but  why  do  I  care  ?  When  I  find  the 
will — ah,  there  comes  Peter  with  my  telegram ! 
With  trembling  fingers  I  open  it,  and  read  : 

"  Will  found.     Commence  proceedings    without 
delay.    Will  write  Kieth.          JOHN  BROWNLOW." 

"Ish  he  goot  news?"  asks  Peter. 


116  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

"  Delightful !  The  will  is  found  !  Where  is  Bess  ? 
I  must  tell  her  of  our  luck." 

"  Oh  se  off  some  vere  mit  de  boys.  But  dot  vills 
—you  ish  reech  now — you  not  vont  to  teach  de 
school?"  anxiously. 

"  Of  course  I'll  finish  the  term.  This  is  the  first 
of  May,  and  school  closes  the  first  week  in  June, 
does  it  not  ?" 

"  Yas,  dot  ish  so.  Den  de  Green  corn  dance — you 
vornt  to  see  him  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  have  you  heard  when  it  is  cele- 
brated?" 

"Yas;  Billy  Oceola  vas  in  town  yesterday, 
und  he  say  dot  he  gomminse  mit  two  moons  from 
now." 

"  And  you  will  give  me  a  holiday  ?" 

"Ob  course  se  haf  holitays.  Dot  ish  nottings ! 
Dem  Jupeans,  dey  vornts  to  go — 

"But  they  are  not  here." 

"Oh,  dey  ish  comin'.  Me  haf  a  latter  from  Keit 
last  nide ;  dey  alride  !  Den,  Mees  Keyson — her 
mans  not  go;  he  in  de  voods  two  mont  already. 
Und  den — who  else  you  vornt  ?" 

"  Why,  we  must  have  Syd." 

"  Syd  ish  no  goot ;  he  haf  too  mooch  treeks 
already.  Veil,  you  vornt  him — he  go.  You  vornt 
some  moor  vomans  mit  you  ?" 

"No;  are  we  not  enough?" 

"Yas  ;  all  me  vont  ish  you  !" 

Notwithstanding  their  tiresome  journey,  our 
Scotchmen  visit  us  the  very  evening  of  their  return. 

"It  is  refreshing  to  look  at  you  !"  exclaims  Ken- 
neth. 

"  Why  ?"  asks  our  coquette. 

"Why?"  he  repeats.     "If  you   had  not  seen  a 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  117 

civilized  man  in  a  month  of  Sundays,  would  you 
not  enjoy  gazing  at  me  ?" 

"That  depends,"  she  answers  with  a  mocking 
laugh. 

"  You  are  terribly  sun-burned ;  then  the  mosqui- 
toes have  been  so  attentive  that  your  dearest  friend 
could  scarcely  call  you  handsome." 

"Why  are  you  so    happy?"   asks    my    enemy. 

"Because  of  my  return?" 

"Of  course  !"  I  return,  scornfully. 

"  What  else  could  cause  that  joyous  expression  ?" 
he  teases. 

"  The  will  is  found  !"  I  return,  watching  him 
closely. 

"Let  me  congratulate  you  !"  he  extends  his  hand. 

"Oh,  you  need  not,"  I  say  in  surprise;  for  he 
seems  really  in  earnest.  "I  can  hardly  expect  such 
a  sacrifice." 

"  'Tis  none,  I  assure  you.  I  am  glad — very  glad 
of  your  success." 

"I  believe — you — really — mean — it!"  I  say  in 
amaze. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  mean  it  ?"  he  demands. 

"Why,  you  know,  the  will  leaves  everything  to  me.." 

"Well?" 

"  And  you  get  nothing!" 

"Nel,  my  poor  girl,  are  you  crazed?  What  do 
you  mean  ?" 

"You  know  very  well  that  you  took  all  my 
money — have  you  forgotten  that  horrid  letter?" 

"I  took  your  money?"  he  repeats  in  surprise. 
"  Pray  explain  how,  and  when." 

We  rise,  and  stare  at  each  other  in  dumb  amaze  ; 
then  I  walk  quietly  to  my  desk,  find  the  obnoxious 


118  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

letter,  and  hand  it  to  him.  He  reads  it  slowly,  then 
says: 

"Well?" 

"Well?"  I  cry  indignantly.  "It  is  not  well !  Can 
you  deny  writing  that  ?" 

"  Certainly.     I  never  saw  it  before  in  my  life" 

"  What !  are  you  not  Alan  Douglas  Kietli  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  my  name — ah,  I  see  !  So  this  is  the 
mysterious  crime  you've  treasured  against  me. 
How  exquisitely  funny !" 

He  throws  himself  upon  the  sofa,  and  laughs  im- 
moderately. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  amused,"  I  say  in  my  stateli- 
est accents.  "  AH  of  us  are  not  so  merry  under 
misfortune ;  but,  perhaps  the  loss  of  a  million  is 
nothing  to  you." 

But  he  laughs  all  the  more,  so  I  return  to  my  seat 
and  assume  a  look  of  stern  dignity.  What  right 
has  he  to  laugh  at  me — me,  whom  he  has  de- 
frauded ? 

"You  silly  Child!"  he  says  at  length.  "Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  all  this  before  ?" 

"  Why  should  I  ?    You  knew  it  all  along. " 

"  Oh,  how  delicious  !"  with  another  laugh,"  I  say, 
Kenneth,  Miss  Nel  has  been  taking  me  for  old  cousin 
Alan  !  Isn't  it  jolly  ?"  Then  both  of  them  laugh. 

"How  flattering!"  exclaims  Kenneth,  "I'd  sue 
her  for  slander." 

"  She  richly  deserves  it,"  laughs  my  enemy. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  ask  with  dignity.  "If 
you  are  not  my  cousin,  who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  your  cousin,  considerably  removed ;  but 
the  old  gentleman  for  whom  you  so  kindly  mistook 
me,  is  my  fourth  cousin.  I  am  both  his  godson  and 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  119 

namesake.  Now,  do  you  not  feel  ashamed  of  your 
wretched  conduct?" 

"  No,  I  do  not !  I  know  he  is  a  horrid  old 
wretch — " 

"  By  no  means ;  he  is  cranky,  but,  like  all  of  the 
Kieths,  has  his  good  points." 

"  Good  points  indeed !  And  what,  pray,  are 
yours  ?" 

"Long-suffering  and  forgiveness,"  he  answers 
promptly.  "  While  yours,  little  cousin,  is  to  make 
a  blunder,  and  stick  to  it." 

"  Yes,  I  always  knew  you  were  ungenerous !"  I 
cry  indignantly. 

" And  hateful?"  teasingly. 

"Yes!" 

"  And  a  'mean,  unprincipled,  wretch  ?  ' : 

"  Yes,  all  that  and  much  more  !  I  wish  you'd 
go!" 

"Why,"  he  answers  gayly,  "I've  just  begun  en- 
joying myself." 

"Go!   My  head  aches  !" 

"  Oh,  well,  you  may  go  to  bed.  I  can  talk  to 
cousin  Bessie." 

"  I  thought  you  said " 

"  That  1  came  for  your  society  alone  ?  You 
needn't  believe  all  we  say.  Good-night,  Miss  Kieth; 
I  hope  you'll  be  more  amiable  at  our  next  inter- 
view." 

I  go  to  bed,  but  cannot  sleep.  What  an  eventful 
day  !  I  ought  to  be  happy,  but  I  am  not.  To  think, 
after  all,  he  is  not  my  enemy  !  Oh  how  ashamed, 
how  mean  and  little  I  feel !  And  he  has  been  so 
kind  and  considerate,  so  tender  and  forgiving 
through  all  my  terrible  rudeness.  He  said  they'd 
hurt  me  some  day — those  horrid  little  speeches — 


120  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

and  now  they  begin  to  sting  in  truth.  Will  I  never 
forget  it  all  ?  Oh  how  I  wish  he  would  go  away, 
far  away,  where  I'd  never  hear  of  him  again 
— no  I  don't — for  I  miss  him  terribly  when  he 
is  gone  !  Of  course  he  will  never  forgive  my 
blunder ;  and  I — how  can  I  ask  him  ?  Why  are 
they  having  such  a  gay  time,  while  I  am  here  so 
utterly  miserable  ?  What  does  he  care  for  my 
wretchedness  ?  Just  hear  that  laugh,  and  my  poor 
head  ready  to  burst.  Oh  dear  !  Will  they  never  go  ? 
At  last — thank  heaven  !  What  is  he  saying  ?  "  Tell 
your  sister  I  will  see  her  to-morrow."  You  are  mis- 
taken sir,  for  I  shall  look  simply  wretched  after  this 
headache ! 


CHAPTER    XX. 


"Sing,  oh  song  of  Hiawatha, 
Of  the  pleasant  days  that  followed, 
Sing  the  mysteries  of  Modamin, 
Sing  the  blessing  of  the  cornfields  !  "—Longfellow. 

TWO  days  of  travelling  over  bad  roads,  a  fierce 
tropic  sun  overhead,  and  nothing  upon  which 
to  rest  our  weary  eyes  save  an  unbroken  stretch  of 
pine  trees,  palmettoes  and  white  sand.  True,  an 
occasional  bayhead  relieves  the  monotony ;  but 
they,  like  angels'  visits,  are  "  few,  and  far  be* 
tween." 

On  we  go,  miles  from  any  white  settlement ;  for 
we  are  travelling  to  the  famous  "  Big  Cypress,"  a 
part  of  the  much  talked  of  Everglades. 

The  Seminoles  are  nomadic,  moving  their  abodes 
to  suit  the  hunting.  Their  women,  now,  as  in  the 
days  of  Columbus,  till  the  earth  with  a  crooked 
stick,  and  plant  corn,  pease,  and  other  vegetables, 
while  the  braves  look  on  approvingly. 

At  last,  we  reach  their  camp,  a  small  village  of 
palmetto  houses,  divided  strictly  into  male  and  fe- 
male lodgings  ;  for  the  braves  consider  it  debasing 
to  associate  too  closely  with  women.  The  dance, 
which  began  before  our  arrival,  seems  rather  a  re- 
ligious ceremony  than  a  jollification. 

A  huge  fire  of  pine  knots,  palmetto  roots  and  cab- 
bage logs  had  been  lighted,  and  around  this,  a  large 
circle,  somewhat  resembling  a  circus  ring,  had  been 


JxJx5  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

formed.  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  camp 
danced  round  the  sacred  flame  singing  the  monoto- 
nous "Ho  !  He  !  hi !  He  !  Ho — he — hi !"  which  con- 
stitutes their  highest  vocal  exercise. 

The  women  are  in  holiday  dress,  and  about  their 
ankles  are  tied  terrapin  shells,  filled  with  shot, 
small  pebbles,  old  nails — anything  to  make  a  noise. 
The  combined  clatter  of  these  unique  ornaments 
and  the  horrible  discord  of  their  voices,  produced  a 
pandemonium  which  baffles  description  ! 

I  notice  several  braves,  who  wear  buckskins,  are 
gay  in  feathers,  beaded  sashes  and  scarfes.  They 
appear  to  be  marshals ;  for,  armed  with  long,  wood- 
en swords,  they  prick  all  delinquents  on  to  duty. 
Woe  to  any  poor  squaw  or  tired  picaninny  who  lags 
in  the  dance !  There  is  no  rest  for  the  weary  till 
this  great  rite  is  finished. 

We  join  them  awhile,  singing  their  tuneless  song; 
but  cannot  long  endure  the  heat.  The  fire  is  con- 
stantly replenished,  and  the  performance  continues 
without  variation.  Round  and  round  the  poor 
wretches  go,  stopping  for  neither  food  nor  slumber. 
Not  a  moment's  rest  is  allowed  them;  not  a  drop  of 
water  passes  their  parched  lips.  On  and  on  they 
go,  till  three  days  and  nights  are  spent  in  this  pecu- 
liar rite. 

"Suppose  we  sketch  that  marshal";  says  Mr. 
Kieth,  "he  is  a  splendid  model." 

They  are,  fortunately,  too  busy  to  observe  us,  for 
the  Seminole  is  suspicious,  and  rarely  allows  him- 
self to  be  photographed. 

We  make  several  excellent  sketches,  catching 
their  free,  unstudied  attitude  as  they  gyrate  around. 

The  weary  dance  ends ;  and  now,  another  curious 
rite  begins.  A  small  house,  to  the  left  of  the  circle, 


A  TALE   OF   SOUTH   FLORIDA.  123 

has  been  stowed  with  well  heated  stones,  and  every 
particle  of  air  excluded.  A  number  of  braves,  en- 
tirely innocent  of  clothing,  enter;  and  the  door  is 
shut. 

For  the  next  half  hour,  a  dozen  of  the  oldest  men 
dance  around  the  building  chanting  the  same  old 
song  and  mumbling  prayers  and  incantations.  Now 
the  nude  warriors  appear,  and  are  bled  at  the  arms, 
legs  and  back.  Immediately  after  bleeding  they 
plunge  into  a  pond  of  cold  water,  clothe  themselves, 
and  prepare  for  the  feast. 

This  sweat-bath,  unlike  the  dance,  is  optional. 
The  young  braves  are  persuaded,  even  urged  to  take 
it,  but  never  forced.  Women  and  children  never 
indulge.  Bleeding,  they  claim,  lets  out  the  tired 
blood  producing  a  delightfully  rejuvenating  effect. 
I  suppose  we  might  term  this  part  of  the  programme 
a  Turkish  bath — minus  polite  appointments. 

Great  kettles  of  green-corn,  cow-peas,  sofki, 
coffee,  potatoes,  etc.,  etc.,  have  been  spread  upon 
the  ground,  and  around  these  the  crowd  gathers. 
But  first  they  must  partake  of  the  '"'vomit  pot  " — a 
broth  made  from  the  roots  of  certain  herbs.  They 
drink  it  directly  from  the  pot — a  large  iron  spoon 
going  the  rounds — then  begins  the  nauseating  sight 
of  fifty  vomiting  Indians  !  Oh,  how  disgusting  !  It 
is  soon  over,  however,  and  they  eat  as  voraciously 
as  a  three  days'  fast  would  warrant. 

Then,  oh  dear !  how  sleepy  and  tired  they  are ! 
utterly  worthless  for  the  next  few  days. 

Billy  Fuel,  who  had  lived  several  years  among  the 
whites  and  understood  English  well,  showed  us 
around  the  camp,  explaining  many  of  their  customs. 

The  mother-in-law,  he  informs  us,  is  by  no  means 
the  despised  creature  of  civilization,  but  is  the 


124  TWO    LITTLE   MAIDS. 

most  powerful  person  in  camp.  Wonderful  phe- 
nomenon ! 

A  brave  never  takes  his  wife  to  his  people;  no,  he 
must  build  his  palmetto  house  close  to  his  mother- 
in-law's,  and  remain  forever  after  under  petticoat 
rule  ! 

Refreshing,  isn't  it,  after  so  many  howls  from  the 
more  (?)  civilized  brethren  ? 

Again,  during  any  conjugal  disturbance,  should 
the  wife  be  beaten  or  otherwise  ill-treated,  her  fam- 
ily will  protect  her;  the  husband  must  speedily 
mend  his  ugly  ways,  or  hyepus* — for  the  settlement 
will  suddenly  become  too  hot  for  his  health. 

A  brave,  sometimes,  with  the  consent  of  the  Medi- 
icine-man,  puts  away  his  wife. 

She  has  the  same  privilege ;  and  either  or  both 
may  marry  again. 

Polygamy  is  prevalent,  but  not  the  slightest  blood 
relationship  must  exist  between  contracting  parties. 
For  this  reason,  a  boy  of  eighteen  often  marries  a 
woman  of  sixty  and  vice  versa  The  race  is  strictly 
moral,  guarding  the  purity  of  woman  as  a  sacred 
trust.  Go,  O  white  man,  and  learn  of  thy  ignorant 
red  brother ! 

"And  what  is  this?"  I  ask,  as  we  walk  through 
one  of  the  houses. 

"Oh,"  says  Syd,  lifting  the  circular  piece  of 
board,  one  side  of  which  bristles  with  needle  pojnts, 
"  this  is  their  instrument  of  punishment.' 

"Is  it  Billy •?"  asks  Bess. 

"  Uh-huh,"  grunts  our  guide.  Picaninny  cry — 
squaw  scratch  him  —  see?"  going  through  the 
motion. 

"  Why  not  switch  him?" 

"  Switch  no  good — picaniimy  cry — what  for  ?     He 

*Hycpus— go  away. 


A   TAL3   OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  125 

bad — Squaw  scratch  him — bad  blood  squirt  out — 
picaninny  good  again — beat  him  like  dog — bad 
blood  no  get  out — picaninny  holy-wogus*  to  hell!" 
We  return  to  the  f  easters,  who,  though  they  de- 
cline conversing,  offer  us  food.  We  taste  their 
sofki — a  kind  of  starch — but  do  not  enjoy  it.  They 
have  no  plates,  eating  from  the  pots  in  which  the 
food  is  cooked.  Knives  and  forks  are  unknown, 
the  fingers  supplying  their  place  ;  while  the  large 
spoon,  the  only  one  used,  begins  at  the  eldest, 
and  goes,  in  turn  to  the  voungest  member  of  the 
group. 

"  Do  the  squaws  never  wear  anything  on  their 
heads  ?"  I  ask. 

Billy  gives  a  negative  grunt. 

"I  suppose,"  remarks  Kieth,  "that  old  shawl  or 
blanket  they  wear  about  their  shoulders,  is  a  rem- 
nant of  the  Mexican  reboza." 

" One  might  judge  so,"  I  return,  "by  the  inevita- 
ble picaninny  within." 

"  I  especially  admire  the  arrangement  of  their 
hair,"  laughs  Bess. 

"  Vy,"  says  Peter,  "se  got  bangs,  des  like  you." 
"  Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  Hook  like  that  ?" 
pointing  to  a  hideous  old  hag. 

"Veil,"  returns  Peter,  enjoying  her  indignation, 
"  se  got  long  stwait  bangs,  und  you  got  short  kinky 
yons,  like  de  niggar !  Dot  ish  all  de  diffunse  me 
see," 

'"  Mr.  Lindsey  !"  she  cries,  "  I  appeal  to  you  for 
redress.  The  Captain  has  insulted  me  grossly  !  " 

"  Captain  Schneider,"  cries  Kenneth  in  a  tone  of 
great  severity.  "I  demand  an  instant  apology,  or 
—pistols  for  two !" 

*Holy  Wogus— no  good. 


126  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"Me  not  fight,  und  me  not  'pologise,"  laughs 
Peter.  "  Vot  for  you  not  vear  your  hair  like  Mees 
Nelsonn  ?" 

"  Oh,"  with  a  pout,  ' '  she  can  dispense  with  bangs. 
If  I  had  a  low,  broad  forehead,  and  all  of  that  wavy 
hair — besides,  brunettes  can  afford  a  plainer  style 
than  we  poor  blondes." 

We  buy  moccasins,  leggins,  a  few  buckskins  and 
a  little  bead-work,  then  turn  our  faces  home- 
ward. 

I  am  very  glad  we  came,  for  though  suspicious 
and  uncommunicative,  the  Indians  have  treated  us 
kindly,  and  given  us  much  useful  information. 

They  are  a  peaceful,  honest  race,  with  no  aspira- 
tions above  a  shot-gun,  and  few  disappointments  of 
any  kind.  Having  a  justly  rooted  hatred  against  the 
United  States  government,  they  will  accept  nothing 
at  its  hands,  receiving  all  agents  in  contemptuous 
silence.  When  an  enterprising  agent,  regardless  of 
cold  looks  and  perfect  silence  (the  Seminole  will  not 
speak  on  compulsion),  forced  himself  into  their  set- 
tlement, they  quietly  waited  for  darkness  to  enwrap 
the  earth,  then  "folded  their  tents  like  the  Arabs, 
and  as  silently  stole  away."  They  will  do  it  every 
time,  so  Uncle  Sam  may  as  well  leave  them  alone. 

Religious  and  philanthropic  societies,  too,  have 
made,  and  are  still  making  efforts  in  their  behalf. 
Every  few  months,  a  box  containing  books,  cards, 
clothing,  etc.,  is  received  at  M —  —for  distribution 
among  the  Seminoles.  This  is  mistaken  kindness. 
Few  of  the  tribe  can  read,  and  those  who  can  arc 
proud  to  buy  their  own  books. 

They  are  honestly  dealt  with  by  the  men  with 
whom  they  trade,  and  still  possess  that  feeling  of 
independence  impossible  to  an  object  of  charity. 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  127 

Our  homeward  journey  is  even  more  tiresome 
than  the  outward.  The  rainy  season,  fortunately, 
has  not  begun,  or  this  excursion  would  have  been 
impossible. 

But  the  saw-grass  seems  higher,  the  sun  hotter 
and  the  mosquitoes  more  vicious.  We  girls  are 
utterly  worn  out,  but  nothing  disturbs  Mrs.  Keyson's 
calm. 

My  enemy  spends  his  time  in  sketching  scenery 
and  caricaturing  our  party.  He  has  let  me  severely 
alone  since  he  discovered  my  unlucky  blunder.  I 
suppose  he  thinks  I  should  apologise ;  but  how.  can 
I  ?  If  I  begin,  where  shall  I  end  ?  How  was  I  to 
know  that  he  was  not  my  cousin  ?  One  more  month 
and  I  shall  leave  Florida.  We  may  never  meet 
again,  and  I  shall  soon  forget — can  I,  though  ?  I 
feel  that  kiss  always.  Why  can  I  not  wipe  it  into 
forgetf ulness  ?  How  foolish  1  am  !  Never  mind,  a 
few  more  rows  with  Uncle  will  change  the  current 
of  my  thoughts.  Poor  Uncle  !  His  bark  was  ever 
worse  than  his  bite 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


"  False  friendship,  like  the  ivy,  decays  and  ruins  the  wall  it  embraces  ; 
but  true  friendship  gives  new  life  and  animation  to  the  objects  it  sup- 
ports."— Robert  Burton. 

MY  birthday  being  the  twentieth  of  June,  I  de- 
termine to  give  a  grand  fete,  which  will  serve 
as  a  farewell  to  our  friends. 

So  I  decide  on  a  garden-party,  and  invite  the  en- 
tire neighborhood  ;  even  Mrs.  Lefon. 

The  Captain,  our  Scotchmen  and  the  Keyson  boys 
have  placed  their  services  at  our  disposal,  while  Mrs. 
Keyson  has  kindly  offered  to  relieve  us  of  cake 
baking. 

My  pupils  are  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  attend- 
ing a  "  real  grown  folks'  party,"  and  I  determine  to 
devote  much  of  my  time  to  them. 

Every  one  is  so  kind — I  almost  hate  to  leave  them. 
Yet,  I  know  we'd  soon  vegetate  in  this  quiet  place. 

We  work  hard,  and  the  grounds  look  lovely.. 
Then  my  presents — I  can't  begin  to  describe  them 
all! 

Dear  old  Peter  brought  me  a  string  of  large,  beau- 
tiful pearls. 

"  Dey  vos  mine  mudder's,"  he  says,  "mid  no 
udder  vomans  shall  effar  vear  dem.  Vill  you — for 
mine  poor  sake  ?" 

"Of  course,  I  shall,  you  dear,  good  man  !" 

Suppose  his  mother  was  not  as  good  as  she  might 
have  been,  shall  I  refuse  this  gift  from  my  good  old 


A  TALE   OF  SOUTH   FLORIDA.  129 

friend?    No,  had  she  been  twice    as  bad,   1  will 
always  remember  her  kindly  for  Peter's  sake. 

"  You  ish  goot !"  he  exclaims  delightedly.  "Me 
lofe  you  mooch  !  Ferry  mooch  !" 

Later  on  Kenneth  brings  me  a  lovely  bracelet,  and 
about  noon  I  receive  a  package  and  note  from  Mrs. 
Lef  on,  who  begs  that  I  will  wear  her  gift  that  evening. 

"Oh  !"  exclaims  Bess,  shaking  out  the  soft  folds 
of  a  dainty  silk  scarf.  "  What  an  exquisite  shade  ! 
And  it  just-  matches  your  other  trimmings !  Of 
course  you  will  wear  it." 

"I  suppose  I  must;"  I  reply  reluctantly,  "but  I 
wish  she  had  not  sent  it." 

"  Why  ?"  throwing  it  around  my  neck. 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know  !    I  have  a  horror  of  her." 

By  sunset  everything  is  in  readiness,  and  we  be- 
gin our  personal  adornment.  Our  dresses  are  white, 
Bessie's  trimmings  of  blue,  mine  yellow.  I  twine 
my  dark  locks  to  the  top  of  my  head,  and  arrange 
Peter's  pearls  tastefully  among  them. 

Kenneth's  bracelet  is  upon  my  arm,  and  I  am  try- 
ing Mrs.  Lefon's  scarf  about  my  throat,  when  Syd 
calls  :  "  I  say,  Miss  Nel !  Here  is  another  birthday 
gift.  Wish  I  was  a  girl !  I  don't  see  why  they 
should  get  everything !  Why,  nobody  knows  when 
I  have  a  birthday.  I  don't  think  it's  fair  !" 

Who  could  have  sent  it !  As  I  open  the  tiny 
package  a  brilliant  diamond  flashes  across  my  daz- 
zled eyes.  Ah,  here  is  a  note. 

"DEAR  NEL: 

Wear  this  to-night  to  please  ALAN." 

I  slip  it  on  my  finger. 

What  a  beauty  !  Shall  1  wear  it?  Of  course  ;  it 
will  please  him — then  it  is  so  exquisite  ! 


130  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

But,  if  I  wear  it,  what  then  ?  Is  it  simply  a  birth- 
day token,  or  does  it  mean  more  ?  Will  he  not 
think  me  anxious,  that  I  am  meeting  him  half-way? 
No,  on  second  thoughts,  I  will  not  wear  it.  If  he 
likes,  he  can  ask  about  it,  and  I  will  tell  him — 
"  there  is  the  rub  "  what  shall  I  tell  him  ? 

But  our  guests  are  arriving,  so  I  return  the  ring 
to  its  box,  and  hasten  to  the  grounds.  Gorgeous 
Japanese  lanterns  swing  gently  from  every  avail- 
able limb,  shedding  a  soft,  mellow  light  over  the 
garden,  and  discloses,  to  those  inclined,  many  quiet 
nooks  for  tete-a-tete.  Chairs,  sofas  and  rustic 
benches  are  scattered  around — not  too  near  together 
— for  the  accommodation  of  young  and  old.  The 
elder  guests  avail  themselves  of  these,  and  sit  in 
groups,  enjoying  many  a  bit  of  gossip ;  but  the 
younger  couples  wander  here,  there  and  every- 
where in  search  of  variety. 

The  organ,  "  a  blaze  of  lights,  and  breathing  with 
perfume,"  occupies  a  central  position,  and  the  Cap- 
tain, contrary  to  his  usual  custom;  plays  whenever 
asked,  delighting  us  all  with  his  bright,  joyous 
music. 

Tears  of  joy  sprang  to  the  dear,  dear  fellow's  eyes 
when  he  saw  his  pearls  amid  my  hair ;  but  I  could 
scarcely  understand  Mrs.  Lefon's  look  on  beholding 
her  gift.  She  thanked  me  in  her  calm,  cool  way  for 
wearing  it,  but  a  triumphant  look  shone  in  her  eyes 
and  a  hard,  little  smile  appeared  upon  her  lips  as 
she  remarked : 

"  You  will  be  leaving  us  soon 

"Yes,  in  two  days." 

"  So  soon  ?"  with  a  strange  look. 

"  I  hope  so,"  I  answer,  wondering  why  she  stares 
so  strangely.  'Twas  a  strange  look — triumph,  not 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.          131 

unmixed  with  remorse.  But  I  have  no  time  to 
think  of  her,  for  I  am  wanted  everywhere. 

"  Where  is  my  ring?"  demands  Alan  Kieth,  atten- 
tively regarding  rny  hand. 

"In my  room." 

"  You  do  not  mind  wearing  other  people's  gifts  !" 
he  exclaims  angrily,  as  he  looks  with  disdain  upon 
my  numerous  adornments. 

"They  are  from  my  friends." 

"  And  what,  pray,  am  I  ?" 

"  Why,  you  are  my — yes  children,  I  am  coming.' 

"  Let  the  children  go  to  h — heaven  !  Can  you  not 
spare  me  a  moment  ?" 

"Not  now." 

"Will  you  at  all?" 

"  Perhaps — if  you  are  nice.  Now  come  and  help 
me  play  with  them." 

We  start  a  game,  but  lam  soon  whisked  off  to  the 
organ  and  forced  to  sing,  though  I  am  scarcely  able. 
Such  curious  sensations  are  creeping  over  me ;  of 
course  I  am  not  sick,  yet,  I  feel  so  miserable. 

I  force  myself  to  be  gay,  while  all  the  time  I  am  long- 
ing to  lie  down  in  peace.  I  feel  that  something  terrible 
is  about  to  happen;  yet  I  must  go  on  to  the  bitter  end. 

I  have  no  clear  recollection  how  we  get  through 
with  supper  ;  I  only  know  that  Alan  and  the  Cap- 
tain help  me  greatly.  Alan  sees  my  wretchedness 
and  shields  me  when  possible. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  he  asks  gently. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  am  utterly  miserable  !  Do  I 
show  it  much  ?'* 

"  Not  much.  I  am  afraid  you  have  worked  too 
hard.  Can  you  not  rest  a  little  ?" 

"  Come  Miss  Nel !"  cry  a  lot  of  little  folks.  "  You 
must  play  '  drop  the  handkerchief.'  " 


132  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

1  give  a  weary  sigh  and  start  forward. 

"Do  not  go!"  exclaims  Alan.  "You  are  not 
able." 

"  Oh  I  must  !  " 

"Oootan  turn  too,  Mifter  Tief !"  cries  a  tiny  girl. 
So  he  laughingly  takes  her  hand,  and  joins  the 
circle. 

"  Run,  Miss  Nel !  You've  got  it !"  cries  one  of  the 
children. 

I  pick  up  the  handkerchief,  and  begin  a  mad  race 
after  the  misguided  youth  who  had  so  unkindly 
flattered  me  with  this  attention.  My  head  feels  as 
if  it  would  split,  and  the  odor  of  the  flowers  is  over- 
powering !  The  heavy  perfume  of  night-blooming 
jasmine  is  everywhere ;  will  nothing  shut  it  out  ? 
I  can  scarcely  breathe ;  I  loosen  the  scarf  at  my 
throat  and  rush  on — pn — on  !  Ah — I  almost  have 
him,  when  all  turns  dark,  and  I  fall — but  no — some- 
one catches  me  !  I  feel  those  strong  arms  close 
about  me,  but  the  voice  seems  far  distant  that  says 
tenderly  : 

"  Poor  girl !     This  is  too  much  for  her." 

Some  one  brings  a  glass  of  water,  and  I  open  my 
eyes.  I  still  lean  upon  his  breast,  for  I  am  too  weak 
to  move. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  I  say  faintly.  "  Could  you 
— manage  to  get — me — to  the  house  ?  " 

"  Directly,"  returns  Alan.     "  Lie  still  a  moment." 

He  half  carries  me  into  the  house,  and  places  me 
upon  the  sofa. 

"Send  Bess,"  I  gasp. 

"  Are  you  comfortable  ?"  he  asks  arranging  my 
pillow. 

"No  —  yes  —  I  want  to  tell  you  how  awfully 
sorry— 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  133 

"  Nonsense !  you  could  not  help  it.  Lie  still ;  I 
will  be  back  directly." 

He  will  not  understand  that  I  am  sorry  for  the 
past ;  and  he  may  never  know,  for  I  shall  certainly 
die  if  they  do  not  hurry. 

How  my  head  aches  !  My  brain  is  on  fire,  and  a 
wave  of  deathly  nausea  sweeps  over  me  !  When 
will  they  come  ?  Ah,  at  last !  Peter,  Kenneth, 
Alan  and  Bess — all  looking  so  anxious. 

The  Captain  feels  my  pulse  and  shakes  his  head. 

"Ve  got  her  to  beds  ride  avay  quick  in  von 
hurry,"  he  says  decisively.  "Se  sick  ferry  mooch. 
Kiet,  you  kintle  de  fire  und  heat  blenty  vorters — 
you,  Meester  Lindsey  go  sent  dem  peoples  home  ; 
dis  house  must  be  auiet.  Mees  Bessie,  me  help  you 
get  her  to  ped." 

"But  Captain,"  she  begins,  "I  had  better  have 
one  of  the  ladies " 

"You  do  vot  I  say!"  he  says  sharply."  You 
not  know  nothings  !" 

I  am  too  miserable  to  know  or  care  how  I  am  put 
to  bed — 1  only  know  they  get  me  there — and  am 
thankful.  Later  on  they  souse  me  into  a  great  tub 
of  hot  water  and  wrap  me  snugly,  compelling  me 
to  drink  great  quantities  of  orange  leaf  tea ;  but  I 
have  only  a  vague,  dream-like  memory — every 
thing  is  shadowy.  Then  comes  a  blank — I  have  no 
idea  how  long  I  tossed  about — not  exactly  uncon- 
scious— just  too  miserable  to  see  or  hear  any  thing 
— so  utterly  wretched  all  the  time  !  Sometimes  the 
conversation  about  me  reached  my  dull  ears,  and  I 
tried  to  make  sense,  but  the  effort  was  too  great — I 
could  only  lie  there  and  wonder  vaguely  what  it 
was  all  about. 

One  day,  when  they  thought  me  unconscious,  I 


13i  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

heard  Peter  sob.  I  tried  to  ask  him  what  was  the 
matter  but  could  not. 

"  She  is  sinking  rapidly,"  says  a  strange  voice. 

"  Vill  se  die  ?"  sobs  Peter.  ( '  Yes.  She  will  hardly 
last  till  evening — unless,  indeed,  some  powerful 
change  takes  place." 

How  terrible  !  Why  should  I  die  ?  I  am  so  young 
so  rich  and — why  should  I  be  snatched  away  from 
all  I  love  ?  What  good  will  the  money  do  me  now 
— and  there  is  my  enemy — dear  fellow  how  nice  he's 
always  been — and  how  sorry  he'll  be !  Then  to 
think  he  will  never  know  how  sorry  I  am — but  per- 
haps I  can  tell  him  now — before  I  go — anyhow — 

I  open  my  eyes,  and  look  feebly  about.  A  tall, 
dark  man  bends  over  me. 

"Are  you  the  doctor?"  I  ask  faintly. 

"Yes." 

"Where  is  Bess  ?" 

"Asleep." 

"Don't  wake  her.  I  want — are  you  sure  I  will  die?" 

"  I  fear  so,  poor  child." 

"  Then — I— must  see — Allan,  "I  gasp.  I  am  awfully 
tired,  but  I  must  see  him  before  the  end.  Peter  goes 
out,  and  soon  returns  with  the  poor  fellow;  then  goes 
out  again,  softly  closing  the  door.  How  sad  they 
both  look  !  Do  they  care  so  much  ?  <• 

"Do  you  know?"l  ask  faintly,  "that  I  must — 
die  ?" 

He  covers  his  face  with  both  hands,  but  says 
nothing. 

"I  could  not  go  without  your  forgiveness,"  I  con- 
tinue. "  I  was  so  unjust — said  such  mean,  spiteful 
things ;  but  I  have  been  awfully  sorry.  And  your 
ring — I  did  want  to  wear  it — I  wanted  to  be  sweet 
to  you — but  now — it  is  too  late." 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  135 

"Nel,"  he  cries  passionately,  "  do  not  waste  your 
precious  strength  on  trifles !" 

"And  I  loved  you  all  along;"  I  confess,  "even 
before  I  discovered  you  were  not  my  enemy." 

"Dear  love,"  he  says,  tenderly  kissing  my  poor, 
thin  hands,  "you  must  not  leave  me." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go ;  but  what  can  I  do  ?  "  I 
cry  piteously,  "  life  would  be  so  sweet  with  you." 

"You  shall  not  die  !"  he  exclaims  passionately. 

"I  am  so  young,"  I  murmur,  "andlife  is  so  beau- 
tiful !  Kiss  me  once,  dear  love — as  you  did— 

He  takes  me  in  his  arms,  and  kisses  me  tenderly, 
almost  reverently,  then  lays  me  gently  among  the 
pillows. 

"Alan,"  I  whisper,  "  I  want  your  ring — your 
ring.  Put  it  on  my  finger  dear,  so  I  may  feel  near 
you — even — after  death." 

He  hunts  on  the  dressing  table  and  places  it  on 
my  third  finger — where  it  should  aave  been  all  along. 

"Nell,"  he  says  resolutely,  "will  with  all  your 
might — with  your  very  soul — to  live  /" 

"  But  Alan,  the  doctor  said  I  must  die." 

"Love  is  mightier  than  Death!"  he  cries.  "Help  me 
darling  to  fight  the  destroyer!  Live,  Nel,  for  my  sake!" 

He  looks  intently  at  me,  and  begins  stroking  my 
hands  with  a  light,  circular  motion. 

"  Sleep  !"  he  commands. 

"  Don't  leave  me  !"  I  plead. 

"  I  will  not,"  he  says  soothingly.  "  Sleep,  sweet- 
heart." 

I  smile  at  him  through  my  half  closed  eyes. 

Such  a  delicious  langour  is  stealing  over  me — how 
sweet  to  have  him  with  me  to  the  very  end. 

I  suppose  this  is  death,  but  I  do  not  mind  it  the 
least  bit — it  is — heavenly  ! 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


"  Woman  is  a  miracle  of  divine  contradictions."— MicUelet. 

SHE  told  you  that  !" 
Bessie's  voice  has  a  far  off  sound ;  perhaps  I 
am  in  the  spirit  world,  and  catch  only  the  echo. 

"  Yas,"  answers  dear  old  Peter,  "  und  se  cwy,  und 
wing  her  hand  und  say  se  sorry — tormenjus  sorry  !" 

"And  you?"  she  questions. 

"Me  dells  her  to  go  avay  for  always  oudt  of  mine 
sight !  Neffar,  no  more  I  vornt  to  see  her  some 
more  already  !" 

He  gives  an  angry  snort,  and  I  open  my  eyes. 

"  Bess  !  "  I  call  feebly. 

"  Oh  you  darling  !"  she  cries,  running  to  my  side. 
"  She  is  all  right,  Captain." 

Peter  comes  in,  his  dear,  old  face  one  broad  smile. 

"Yas,  se  alride  !"  he  announces,  eyeing  me  closely. 
"  Se  goot  gearl — mooch  goot !"  rubbing  his  chubby 
hands  in  pleasure. 

"  Have  I  been  ill?"  I  ask,  bewildered. 

"Have  you  been  ill ?"  laughs  Bess.  "What  im- 
pertinence !  Here  we've  been  nearly  wild  about 
you — why  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Captain,  you'd 
have  died  before  the  doctor  got  here  !" 

"  But  Bess — "  I  begin  "  what's  the  matter — 

"  Hush  dot  talking  !"  commands  Peter.  "  Me  get 
him  goot  brot.'  And  he  bustles  out. 

"Why  must  I " 


A  TALE   OF   SOU'.!  rl   FLORIDA.  137 

"Hush!"  says  Bess,  "Peter  is  head  nurse,  and 
he'll  murder  me  if  any  thing  goes  wrong ;  so  shut 
your  eyes,  baby  mine,  and  wait  for  your  broth." 

I  obey,  wondering  vaguely  what  it  all  means. 
The  broth  is  good,  and  Peter  and  Bess  rattle  on  in 
the  most  nonsensical  way.  They  are  wildly  gay 
about  something — but  won't  let  me  talk  much. 
Never  mind — I'll  retaliate,  some  day.  But  it  is  de- 
lightful to  be  petted ;  so  I  lie  there  and  smile  indul- 
gently at  Peter's  funny  talk  and  Bessie's  merry 
laughter. 

Presently,  they  think  me  asleep  and  cease  talk- 
ing. He  steals  softly  out,  and  she  brushes  away 
the  flies.  Why  must  all  sick  people  be  fanned? 
What  a  trouble  to  the  nurse,  and  how  tired  her  poor 
arms  must  get !  Nothing  but  brush — brush — brush  ! 
What  is  the  matter  with  me,  anyhow,  and  why  will 
they  not  tell  me  ?  It  is  something  catching,  for  I 
smell  carbolic  acid.  Oh  horrors !  can  it  be  small- 
pox ?  I  look  at  my  hands  very  carefully  ;  no,  they 
are  smooth  and  white.  What,  then — ah !  memory 
slowly  awakens ;  that  awful,  sickening  feeling 

which  made  me  faint 

" Bess,"  I  ask,  as  I  open  my  eyes  "What  day  is 
this  ?" 

"  Why,  Baby,  I  thought  you  were  asleep  !    This, 
Miss  Kieth,  is  Thursday." 
"The  day  after  our  fete  ?" 

"  No,  dear  child ;  a  week  later.  You  have  been 
very  ill,  but  will  do  nicely  now,  if  you  obey  orders. 
So  shut  your  eyes  and  go  to  sleep.  I  shall  answer 
no  more  questions." 

I  shut  my  eyes,  and  begin  to  think.  I  have  a 
vague,  dream-like  recollection  of  beinrj  fussed  over 
by  Bess,  Kenneth,  de  Captain  and  Alan ;  of  intoler- 


138  TWO  LITTLE  MAIDS. 

able  pain  and  deadly  nausea — but  nothing  is  clear. 

Oh,  well,  I  am  too  weak  to  worry  over  these  dim 
shadows;  they  will  all  come  in  time. 

I  do  little  more  than  eat  and  sleep  for  the  next 
few  days — Peter  and  Bess  still  my  devoted  slaves. 

Our  Scotchmen  call  many  times,  supplying  me 
daily  with  fresh  flowers  and  game. 

Strange,  I've  heard  no  female  voices.  Have  my 
lady  friends  forgotten  me,  or  are  they  afraid  of  the 
contagion  ?  I  asked  Bess  the  other  day,  but  got  no 
satisfaction. 

Alan  asked  yesterday  when  he  might  see  me,  but 
I  said  positively  not  until  I  could  dress ;  for  it  is  so 
confusing  to  receive  in  bed.  Of  course  I  do  not 
mind  dear,  old  Peter — he  has  been  just  like  a  father 
to  me — but  the  others  must  wait. 

Bess  has  told  me  all!  How  Mrs.  Lefon  sent  me 
that  scarf,  knowing  it  was  alive  with  yellow-fever 
microbes!  Sent  it  purposely,  hoping  that  I  would 
contract  the  dread  disease  !  And  how,  when  they 
thought  me  dying,  she  confessed  her  crime,  and 
begged  Peter  to  forgive  her. 

"It  was  jealousy;"  says  Bess, "she  hoped,  by 
your  death  to  gain  his  affections.  But  remorse 
overcame  her,  and  now,  he  swears  he  will  never  see 
her  again!" 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  She  went  North  immediately,  and  will  probably 
stay  there  !" 

"And  the  scarf  ?" 

"  Is  burned." 

"  How  did  you  discover  the  disease  ?" 

"  Dear  old  Peter  suspected  it  immediately,  and 
his  prompt  treatment  was  just  the  thing  ;  for  the 


A  TALE  OP  SOUTH  FLORIDA.          139 

doctor,  (we  telegraphed  to  Jacksonvile  for  one)  on 
his  arrival,  simply  continued  it,  and  finally  cheered 
us  with  the  information  that  you  would  die,  unless 
a  miracle  took  place." 

"  Then,  how  am  I  here  ?" 

"  Alan  Kieth  performed  the  miracle  !" 

"  O-o-o-h  !"  I  say  slowly,  my  mind  going  back  to 
that  awful  night.  "  What  did  he  do  ?" 

"Do  you  remember  nothing  of  your  last  meet- 
ing r 

I  do  not  answer,  so  she  continues  : 

"  Well,  you  asked  to  see  him,  told  him  you  were 
properly  sorry  for  your  past  meanness,  I  suppose, 
(he  has  never  mentioned  the  matter)  and  when  the 
others  returned  you  were  fast  asleep,  your  hand 
lovingly  clasped  in  his." 

"  Well  ?" 

"  The  doctor  said  'twas  a  clear  case  of  hypnotism — 
and  that  you  owed  your  life  to  Alan." 

"  How  strange  !"  I  cry.  "  The  warning  was  true, 
after  all — Mrs.  Lefon  did  attempt  my  life,  and  the 
Captain  and  Alan  did  save  me  !  Did  either  of  them 
remember  my  dream?" 

"  Yes.  Alan  spoke  of  it  several  times,  and  Peter 
was  hopeful  all  along,  because  his  '  foster  mudder ' 
had  promised  that  he  should  assist  in  saving  you." 

"  Dear  old  Peter  !  But,  have  none  of  your  lady 
friends  been  near  you  ?  " 

"  Dear  child,  the  whole  town  ran  away  from  the 
fever  !  Peter  and  the  Scotch  boys  are  our  only  true 
friends." 

"  How  mortifying !  But,  was  there  much 
danger?" 

"  No.  They  were  only  scared.  Your  system 
was  ripe  for  any  disease,  or  you  would  never 


140  TWO   LITTLE  MAIDS. 

have  taken  it.  We,  who  nursed  you  night 
and  day,  have  not  been  at  all  affected.  Here,  it  is 
time  for  your  quinine.  And  now,  you  had  better 
rest." 

I  may  rest  my  body,  but  my  mind  is  in  a  tumult. 
To  think  of  owing  my  very  life  to  my  enemy  ! 
The  man  I  have  scorned  and  insulted  ever  since  we 
met;  the  dear,  good,  uncomplaining  fellow,  so 
handsome  and  gifted  !  How  can  I  ever  face  him  ? 
Then,  that  awful  deathbed  scene — does  he  remem- 
ber it  ?  How  dreadful !  Why  did  I  not  have  the 
decency  to  die  ?  No,  I  am  glad  I  did  not ;  but  what 
shall  I  do  ?  Then,  there  is  his  ring ;  shall  I  return 
it  ?  No,  I  dare  not !  And  he  is  coming  to-morrow  ! 
Oh  what  a  pickle !  How  I  wish — but  what  is  the 
use — fate  always  fulfills  herself. 

I  put  on  my  pink  tea-grown,  and  am  thankful  to 
see  that  I  am  quite  presentable ;  a  trifle  pale,  per- 
haps, but  that  is  necessary  to  the  role  of  invalid. 

The  gate  slams — I  hear  Kenneth's  laugh,  and  the 
Captain's  voice,  so  brace  myself  for  the  encounter. 

"Good-morning,  Miss  Kieth,"  says  Kenneth, 
shaking  hands. 

"1  believe,"  says  Alan,  looking  searchingly  into 
my  eyes,  "  you've  been  well  enough  to  see  us  long 
ago." 

"'I  deny  nothing  and  admit  nothing!'"  I  cry, 
trying  to  avoid  his  gaze. 

'Twas  all  pride,"  explains  Bess.  "She  fancied 
she  did  not  look  so  bewitching  as  when  you  last 
met—" 

"Our  last  meeting  was  entirely  satisfactory;" 
says  my  enemy  with  a  quiet  smile,"  though  I  have 
no  idea  what  she  wore." 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  141 

"They  say  I  must  thank  you  for  my  life/'  I  say 
shyly. 

"  The  Captain  did  far  more  than  I,"  he  returns 
modestly. 

"  No  !"  cries  Peter,  "  you  haf  more  power ;  me  do 
vot  I  can,  but  you  safe  her  life  !  Se  die.  but  for  you. 
Se  pelong  to  you,  alvays  !' 

"Why,  Captain,"  I  say,  "Bess  says  you  did 
everything." 

"  I  do  effry  ting  but  safe  you;  dot  he  do.  You 
belong  mit  him  !  Yas,  me  villing — mooch  villing  ! 
It  ish  nottings — nottiiigs  at  all !  Goot-bye ;  me 
know  young  folks  vornt  to  talk  lofe — me  go  !" 
And  out  he  rushes  before  I  can  stop  him. 

Oh,  that  the  earth  would  open  and  swallow  my 
blushing  face !  It  does  not,  though ;  it  never  does 
when  we  most  ardently  desire  it. 

"A  sensible  old  chap!"  remarks  Kenneth.  'He 
knows  when  he  is  '  a  crowd.' ' 

"  He  did  not  wait  for  even  a  hint,"  laughs  Alan. 

"Any  insinuations?"  asks  Kenneth.  "Bess  and 
I  had  just  as  soon  perambulate." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  returns  Bess.  "I  have 
bread  to  bake;  the  fire  must  be  started  this  minute." 
"Then,  I  will  assist,"  he  rises  with  alacrity. 

"Do  not  go!"  I  beg. 

"  I  must,"  she  returns.  "  And  Nel,  I  may  as  well 
tell  you  that  Kenneth  and  I  are " 

"Oh  Bess,  do  you  mean " 

"Yes,  she  does,"  laughs  Kenneth,  placing  his 
arm  about  her.  "And  I  am  just  awfully  happy  !" 

"  I  am  so  glad  !"  I  cry,  giving  him  my  hand. 

"Thank  you,  little  sister,"  he  says,  as  he  kisses 
me  affectionately. 


142  TWO   LITTLE   MAIDS. 

"And  now/'  says  Alan,  as  they  depart,  ",it  is  my 
turn." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  falter. 

"  I  want  a  kiss,  of  course !  Am  I  not  a  model  of 
patience?" 

"  No  !"  I  cry,  putting  out  both  hands  to  prevent 
him. 

"  Nonsense,  Nel !  You  know — you  know  you  are 
mine — heart  and  soul '  Have  you  forgotten  this  ?" 
touching  his  ring. 

"  Oh  !"  I  cry,  wild  with  shame,  "  why  didn't  you 
let  me  die  ?  I  was  crazed  with  fever — how  could  I 
know  what  I  was  saying  ?" 

He  drops  my  hands  and  looks  grave. 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  mistook  your  ravings  ?"  he 
asks  coldly.  "You  care  nothing  forme  ?" 

"  Of  course  you  did  !"  I  say,  lying  glibly. 

A  look  of  stony  firmness  settle  slowly  over  his 
face.  He  takes  his  hat,  and  says,  with  chilling  po- 
liteness : 

"I  bid  you  good-morning,  Miss  Kieth,"  then 
walks  in  dignified  silence  towards  the  door. 

Shall  I  let  him  go  ?  I  look  longingly  at  him,  but 
his  face  is  turned  steadily  from  me.  Surely  he  will 
look  around  !  Why  was  I  so  contrary,  when  all  the 
time — ah  !  he  has  reached  the  door — no  I  cannot  give 
him  up  ! 

"  Alan  !"  I  cry,  starting  towards  him. 

He  turns  and  retraces  his  footsteps. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  says  coldly, 

" Don't  go — please!" 

"  Why  not  ?"  dryly. 

"Because    because " 

"  Because  what  ?"  his  eyes  begin  to  twinkle. 

"I  was  fibbing,"  I  say  desperately,  for  he  will  not 


A  TALE  OF  SOUTH  FLORIDA.  143 

help  me  one  particle.     "I  do  love  you  devotedly  !" 

I  cry,  throwing  my  arms  around  his  neck. 

"I  know  it,"  he  laughs  indulgently.     "  And  now 

you  wish  me  to  set  the  day  ?" 

"I  suppose  you  must,"  resignedly,  "for  I  will  not." 
" Nel,"  he  says,  as  he  holds  me  close,  "you  are  the 

sweetest,  meanest,  most  enchanting  little  torment 

in  the  world  !" 


THE   END. 


CONCHITA; 

A   MEXICAN    ROMANCE, 

BY    "MEG." 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  hot  summer  day  is  just  ending,  and  the  de- 
parting sun-god  sheds  his  last,  fiery  rays  over 
a  scene  of  tropical  loveliness. 

In  the  midst  of  a  grove  of  feathery  cocoa  palms, 
stands  a  picturesque  flat-roofed  house,  with  the 
open  courtyard  and  quaint  little  balconies,  so  com- 
mon in  Mexico.  Large  poncianas,  literally  covered 
with  pink,  scarlet,  white  and  yellow  blossoms, 
many  brilliant  cacti,  verbenas,  geraniums,  and  a 
number  of  flowering  vines  fill  the  air  with  fra- 
grance. 

In  an  airy  apartment,  the  long  jalousies  of  which 
open  upon  the  balcony,  a  man  reclines  upon  a  wil- 
low invalid-chair. 

A  casual  glance  shows  that  his  life  is  fast  ebbing 
away.  His  surroundings  are  refined,  even  luxu- 
rious, and  bespeak  both  wealth  and  culture. 

As  the  clock  strikes  six,  he  opens  his  eyes  and 
calls,  "Conchita!  Conchita!"  This  call  is  immedi- 
ately repeated  by  a  grey  parrot  perched  on  the  back 
of  his  chair, 


2  CONCHITA. 

"  You  here,  Poll  ?"  he  says.  "Did  I  not  send  you 
to  your  own  house,  for  swearing?" 

"Poor  Poll !  Poor  Poll !"  croaked  the  artful  creat- 
ure, holding  up  one  foot  to  hide  her  pretended  tears. 
"Poll  so  sorry — she  promise  to  swear  no  more.  Poll 
love  her  master — kiss  and  forgive  !"  She  flies  down 
and  gives  him  a  little  peck  upon  the  lips. 

Just  then,  through  the  open  window,  Avalks  a 
young  girl  of  seventeen  summers.  Her  glorious 
dark  eyes,  fine  brows  and  curling  lashes,  rippling 
black  hair,  and  clear,  white  skin,  combined  with  a 
slender,  well  developed  figure,  produce  a  charming 
whole.  Her  soft,  clinging  white  robe,  tiny,  high- 
heeled  slippers,  and  graceful  lace  mantilla,  are  well 
in  keeping  with  her  pure,  stately  beauty. 

With  a  loud  cry  of  "  Conchita !  Conchita !"  the 
the  parrot  flies  across  the  room,  and  after  a  little 
peck  on  each  cheek  (the  usual  Spanish  salutation) 
settles  herself  upon  the  young  girl's  shoulder. 

Lightly  kissing  her  father,  she  hands  him  a  letter. 

He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  he  read  its  contents. 

"  A  few  more  days,"  he  murmurs,  "  and  my  mind 
will  be  at  rest.  Little  daughter,  you  may  read  this; 
it  is  from  my  most  valued  friend,  and  concerns 
your  future." 

Wondering  greatly,  she  took  the  letter  and  read  : 

"  NEW  YORK,  June  5th,  1865. 
DEAR  OLD  FRIEND: 

Yours  of  May  10th  just  to  hand. 

I  will  be  with  you  as  soon  as  steam  can  take  me. 
Can  arrange  very  well  for  the  little  girl,  but  hope 
sincerely,  it  will  be  unnecessary.  Keep  up  a  brave 
heart,  and  don't  expect  me  till  you  see  me. 

As  ever,  your  friend,  ERNEST  GREYSON." 

"But  what  does  it  all  mean,  Papa?"  turning  her 


A   MEXICAN    ROMANCE.  3 

perplexed  eyes  upon  him.  "  Who  is  the  'little  girl,' 
and  what  arrangement  is  to  be  made  for  her  ?" 

"Dear  child,"  he  answers,  gently  stroking  one  of 
her  slender  hands,  "your  father  knowing  he  can 
live  but  a  short  while,  wrote,  asking  a  trusted 
friend  to  care  for  his  little  blossom  when  he  must 
leave  her.  Don't  you  understand,  my  darling?" 

"  Oh,  it  can  not  be  !  It  must  not  be  !"  she  sobbed. 
"  God  is  too  good  to  take  you  from  me.  And,  Papa, 
may  not  the  doctor  be  mistaken  ?  I  am  sure  you 
look  better  to-day — say,  dear  Papa,  do  you  not  feel 
stronger?" 

He  smiled  faintly,  shaking  his  head. 

Poll,  unable  to  understand  the  situation,  looks  on 
in  amaze;  gathering,  finally,  that  Conchita  is  in 
distress,  she  shows  her  sympathy  by  raising  her 
voice  in  a  most  piteous  wail. 

"There,  there,  'Chita,"  says  her  father,  "dry 
your  tears  and  quiet  poor  Poll.  You  know,  child,  I 
could  not  possibly  live  always.  I  am  sure,  you 
would  not  wish  me  to  stay,  suffering  as  I  do." 

With  a  strong  effort,  she  controls  her  emotion,  and, 
with  the  screaming  parrot  still  perched  upon  her 
shoulder,  leaves  the  room. 


CHAPTER    II. 


CRANCIS  MERLE,  while  still  quite  young, 
formed  a  romantic  attachment  for  a  beautiful 
Mexican  Senorita,  whom  he  met  one  winter  in 
Havana.  He  first  saw  Conchita  Poyo  at  a  gay 
fancy  ball,  fell  desperately  in  love,  and  followed  her 
to  Mexico,  vowing  that  nothing  should  part  them. 
She,  at  first  was  a  little  frightened  by  his  vehem- 
ence, then  pleased,  and  finally  captivated.  At  last 
she  promised,  "  If  Papa  consents,  I  will  marry  Senor 
Merle." 

"  Papa,"  after  examining  into  the  family  record 
and  bank  account  of  the  young  man,  yielded  his 
consent  on  condition  that  they  reside  in  Mexico. 

Frances,  being  very  much  in  love,  willingly  con- 
sented. 

Papa  Poyo  presented  them  with  a  pretty  little 
home  on  the  gulf  coast,  and  an  airy  summer  retreat 
among  the  mountains;  a  refuge  when  the  long, 
rainy  season  set  in. 

After  two  years  of  almost  perfect  bliss,  the  young 
wife  died,  in  giving  birth  to  her  tiny  namesake. 

The  bereaved  husband,  almost  crazed  with  grief, 
left  his  child  with  her  maternal  Aunt,  Donna  Castro, 
and  roamed  over  many  lands  in  search  of  distrac- 
tion. 

Finally,  a  longing  for  rest,  brought  him  once  more 
to  his  southern  home. 


A  MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  5 

Little  Chita,  now  six  years  old,  soon  learned  to 
love  "Papa"  dearly. 

Her  cousin  Alfonso,  who  had,  hitherto,  been  her 
constant  companion,  felt  a  little  jealous  that  so 
much  of  the  affection  he  had  formerly  received 
should  now  be  given  to  another.  But  the  little  lady 
explained  matters  by  saying,  "  Don't  you  see,  'Fonso, 
I  must  love  my  Papa  heaps  and  heaps  !  'Cause  I 
am  all  he  has,  and  your  Papa  has  you,  and  Auntie, 
and  me,  and  lots  of  others." 

"Well,"  answers  the  boy,  gravely,  "you  may 
love  him  all  you  want  to.  But  don't  forget,  '  Chita, 
you  have  promised  to  be  my  wife,  some  day — when 
we  are  grown." 

" Certainly  not,"  she  answers  firmly.  "But  don't 
you  think,  l  Fonso,  'twould  be  better  to  ask  my 
Papa's  consent,?  I  heard  Auntie  say  your  papa 
asked  for  her." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  he  answers,  "  I  shall  ask  him  right 
now,  this  minute)  if  you  wish  it." 
Hand  in  hand,  they  go  in  search  of  "  Papa." 
"  Uncle,"  says  '  Fonso  solemnly,  "  Conchita  and  I 
want  to  marry  when  we  are  big  like  you.    1  come 
to  ask  your  consent.     Do  you  object  ?" 

Mr.   Merle  laughed,   and  patting  each  of    their 
heads,  promised  to  raise  no  objections,  if,  at  the  end 
of  a  dozen  years,  they  were  still  of  the  same  mind. 
"We  will  never  change,"  they  declared. 
So  he  dismissed  them  with  the  wise  admonition, 
"to  be  good  children,  and  avoid  all  lover's  quar- 
rels." 

Mr.  Merle,  after  returning  home,  devoted  much 
time  to  his  little  daughter.  He  would  neither  send 
her  to  school  nor  employ  a  governess,  but  deter- 
mined to  teach  her  himself. 


6  CONCHITA. 

She  was  a  bright  little  thing,  and  easily  learned 
all  lessons  assigned  her.  Then  came  the  delightful 
pleasure  of  sitting  on  Papa's  knee  and  listening 
with  bated  breath  to  his  vivid  descriptions  of  for- 
eign lands.  But  most  she  loved  to  hear  of  his 
native  city,  New  York. 

"And  why,"  questions  the  little  fairy,  "did  you 
never  go  back  to  see  your  relations  ?" 

"'Because  pet,"  your  papa  has  no  relatives,  that 
is,  no  near  ones.'' 

"  And  no  friends  ?"  she  persisted. 

"  Only  one." 

"When  did  you  see  him  last  ?" 

"Just  before  I  came  home." 

"And  has  he  any  little  girl,  like  me?" 

"  No,  but  he  has  a  niece,  several  years  older,  who 
lives  with  him." 

"  Has  she  a  mama  ?" 

"  Yes,  she  has  a  mama.    Now  run  and  play." 

So  years  rolled  on,  father  and  daughter  becoming 
fonder  of  each  other  every  day. 

He  gave  her  a  thorough  English  education,  over- 
looked her  miscellaneous  .reading,  and  taught  her  to 
sketch  with  a  bold,  fretrnHHtk^. 

They  were  inseparable ;  if  he  rode,  s"he  kept  by 
his  side,  firmly  seated  on  her  own  little  pony,  and 
would  pace,  gallop  or  even  run  to  keep  up  with 
"  Papa."  He  never  walked,  read,  sketched  or  en- 
joyed any  occupation  without  her. 

Alfonso  still  claimed  much  of  her  time,  speaking 
often  of  their  future  marriage. 

Their  parents  smiled,  but  said  nothing,  thinking 
it  a  very  good  arrangement. 

Mr.  Merle,  however,  wished  his  daughter  to  see 
more  of  the  world  before  marriage ;  and,  knowing 


A  MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  7 

his  days  were  numbered,  had  written  to  his  friend 
Ernest  Greyson,  asking  him  to  come  immediately, 
and  assume  the  care  of  his  ere-long  orphan  child. 

He  had  settled  his  earthlj7  affairs,  "put  his  house 
in  order,"  and  craved  only  to  see  this  life-long 
friend,  before  going  to  his  eternal  rest. 

The  letter,  received  in  our  opening  chapter  gave 
him  that  hope. 


CHAPTER  III. 


ONCHITA,  don't  you  hear  some  one  coming  ? 

v_^  Look  through  the  window,  child — surely  I 
am  not  mistaken." 

"Yes,  Papa,  a  man  is  coming  up  the  tamarind 
avenue,  on  horseback ;  but  'twill  be  some  time  be- 
fore he  reaches  the  house.  Shall  I  call  Manuel  to 
take  his  horse  ?" 

•'Certainly.  I  am  sure  it  is  Ernest,  for  he  has 
had  ample  time  for  his  journey." 

She  leaves  the  room,  to  give  a  few  instructions, 
and,  five  minutes  later,  stands  on  the  balcony, 
greeting  their  visitor. 

"You  are  my  father's  friend?"  she  asks,  looking 
timidly  into  his  deep  gray  eyes. 

"  I  am,"  answered  the  handsome  stranger.  "  May 
I  see  him?" 

"Yes;  this  way,  please.  He  has  fretted  greatly 
for  you."  She  conducts  him  to  a  cool,  shady  apart- 
ment, where  the  sufferer  lies,  propped  up  among 
snowy  pillows. 

"Thank  God,  that  you  have  come  at  last!"  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Merle  as  he  feels  the  close,  firm  pressure 
of  Earnest  Greyson's  hands.  "  I  have  prayed  earn- 
estly to  see  you  once  more — before — my — death." 

"  Let  us  hope,  my  dear  fellow,  that  the  case  is  not 
so  bad,"  says  Earnest  cheerfully. 

Mr.  Merle  only  shook  his  head,  and  turning  to 
Conchita  said : 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  9 

"  My  dear,  show  Mr.  Greyson  to  his  room.  I  am 
sure  he  is  hot  and  dusty." 

With  a  " Follow  me,  please;"  she  leads  him  to  a 
large,  airy  room,  the  very  appearance  of  which, 
filled  the  weary  traveler  with  a  sense  of  repose. 

"  If  you  need  anything,"  she  continues,  "  call  one 
of  the  servants.  We  have  tea  at  six,"  and,  with  an 
"  adios  "  she  retires. 

"How  perfectly  delicious!"  cried  Earnest  Grey- 
son,  dropping  into  a  large  easy  rocker.  "  This  trop- 
ical heat  certainly  makes  one  very  indolent.  So, 
my  fair  conductress  is  poor  Francis'  daughter. 
The  '  little  girl '  I  am  to  care  for.  I  wonder  what 
my  adorable  sister  will  say  when  I  return  with  such 
a  beauty"?  The  girl  will  certainly  upset  some  of  her 
schemes,  unless,  indeed,  she  is  put  in  short  dresses 
and  consigned  to  the  nursery.  Ah,  well,  there's  no 
use  fretting  till  trouble  really  comes,"  with  which 
comforting  reflection,  he  fell  asleep,  and  feels 
much  refreshed  when  'Mannel  appears  to  announce 
the  evening  meal. 

Many  varieties  of  fruit  graced  the  table — pine- 
apples, guavas,  mangoes,  sapadilloes,  sour-sops, 
bananas,  Spanish-limes,  Avocado-pears,  etc.,  etc., 
mingled  with  brilliant  tropical  flowers,  and  soft 
green  foliage. 

Earnest,  who  was  unacquainted  with  most  of 
these  southern  fruits,  had  to  content  himself  with 
very  simple  fare. 

Conchita,  who  presided  with  ease  and  grace,  was 
much  distressed  that  their  visitor  enjoyed  so  few 
of  the  Mexican  dainties  set  before  him. 

She  resolved  that,  during  his  stay,  their  bill  of 
fare  should  be  more  American.. 


10  CONCHITA. 

The  meal  finished,  she  proposes  showing  him  over 
the  grounds. 

"This,"  she  says,  as  they  enter  a  vine-clad  sum- 
mer house,"  is  my  special  property.  Is  it  not  a 
fairy  bower?" 

"It  is,  indeed,  and  here"  stooping  to  examine  a 
night-blooming  cereus,  "I  see  a  long  list  of  fairy 
visitors." 

"Yes,  and  if  you  observe  the  first  date,  you  can 
form  some  idea  of  the  age  and  growth  of  the  plant. 
But  come  let  me  show  you  elsewhere." 

On  she  led  him — through  great,  feathery  fern- 
trees,  gorgeous  foliage  plants ;  past  rippling  fount- 
ains, sprinkling  flowers  of  many  hues;  dainty 
orchids,  clinging  to  the  rough  trunks  of  stately 
palms ;  and  down  the  white  shell  walk  to  the  tiny 
lake,  whose  clear  waters  so  perfectly  reflect  the 
brilliant  tinting  of  a  tropic  sky. 

On  they  roam,  till  the  lengthening  shadows  warn 
them  to  return. 

Next  day,  the  two  old  friends  have  a  long  talk 
about  Conchita's  future ;  Ernest  promising  to  be- 
come her  guardian,  and,  as  nearly  as  possible,  fill 
her  father's  place. 

"You  know,  dear  friend,  that  my  own  life  has 
not  been  happy,  but  I  shall  try  in  every  way,  to 
shield  her  from  danger." 

"  I  know  you  will.  But,  promise  me  one  thing — 
that  you  will  not  permit  my  poor  child  to  marry 
early.  Her  cousin,  Alfonso  Castro,  and  herself, 
formed  some  childish  engagement  years  ago,  but  I 
don't  think  their  dispositions  at  all  suited — at  any 
rate,  don't  let  them  marry  till  she  is  old  enough  to 
decide  for  herself." 

"I  promise,"  returned  his  companion,  bitterly. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  11 

"  I,  of  all  others,  should  know  the  misery  of  a  hasty 
marriage." 

"  Ah,  you  are  not  rid  of  her  yet  ?" 

"  No,  and  fear  I  never  shall  be.  She  was  in  Paris 
when  I  heard  last,  but  travels  considerably." 

"  My  poor  friend  !  and  you  so  young.  Why  you 
are  only  thirty-five " 

"  Thirty-four,  last  March.  Much  too  young  for 
the  miserable  years  before  me — but  let  us  speak  of 
something  more  agreeable." 

They  talked  of  their  school  days,  when  Earnest, 
quite  a  youngster,  regarded  his  older  friend  as  little 
less  than  a  god ;  of  the  many  "jolly  larks"  they  had 
enjoyed,  foreign  lands  they  had  visited  and  odd 
people  they  had  met. 

Greyson  was  a  pleasant  companion,  and  for  a  little 
while  the  sick  man  rallied ;  but  one  morning,  while 
quite  alone  with  his  daughter,  Francis  Merle  dropped 
peacefully  into  his  last  sleep. 

She,  poor  child,  had  never  looked  on  death,  and 
thinking  'twas  only  a  faint,  hastened  to  call  help  ; 
and  could  hardly  believe  it,  when  Mr.  Greyson 
tenderly  assured  her  that  "  Papa  "  was  in  heaven. 

Though  completely  overcome,  she  would  not  annoy 
him  with  her  grief  but  shutting  herself  in  her  own 
room,  would  see  no  one  but  "Auntie." 

As  Senora  Castro's  husband  had  long  been  dead, 
and  her  son  was  now  absent,  the  entire  responsibility 
of  the  funeral  fell  on  Greyson.  Twas  well  h.e  so 
thoroughly  understood  Spanish  ;  for,  excepting  Con- 
chita,  none  of  the  household  spoke  English. 

Two  days  after  this  sad  event,  Conchita  and  he 
left  for  New  York. 

Senora  Castro  had  anxiously  begged  to  keep  her 


12  CONCHITA. 

niece  in  Mexico,  but  Mr.  Greyson  kindly,  but  de- 
cidedly, refused. 

'Chita's  parting  from  the  good  lady  was  filled  with 
many  tears  and  caresses,  and  a  whispered,  "Be 
sure  you  keep  your  heart  for  my  poor  boy,  dearie." 

"Poor  Poll,"  of  course  could  not  be  left,  so  was 
securely  housed  in  a  pretty  cage.  She  objected 
strongly  to  such  treatment,  promising  loudly  to  "be 
a  good  girl  and  not  swear." 


CHAPTER   IV. 


"  A  ND  this  is  New  York  ?"  asks  Chita,  as  their 
1\  steamer  nears  the  pier.  "What  a  very,  very 
large  place  it  must  be." 

"It  is,"  returned  her  guardian,  "but  you  can  not 
see  a  third  of  it  from  here.  I'll  take  you  some  day 
to  the  top  of  old  Trinity,  where  you'll  get  a  much 
finer  view." 

No  sooner  did  the  tide  of  passengers  begin  to 
leave  the  boat,  than  the  loud,  distracting  noise  of 
hackmen,  draymen,  porters,  each  recommending 
his  hotel  or  vehicle,  commenced  with  all  its  fury. 

Conchita,  totally  unaccustomed  to  such  commo- 
tion, was  terribly  bewildered.  But  her  guardian, 
quite  at  home  in  this  pandemonium,  soon  had  her- 
self and  belongings,  Poll  included,  comfortably  set- 
tled in  a  cab,  and  instructed  the  driver  to  take  them 
to  "  No.  —  Fifth  Avenue." 

Soon  they  reach  a  handsome  brownstone  jiront,  and 
the  driver,  springing  from  his  seat,  rings  the  door- 
bell. The  door  is  opened,  in  a  few  minutes,  by  a  liv- 
eried servant,  who  bows  low,  on  seeing  his  master. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  back,  sir,"  he  said,  beginning  at 
once  to  gather  up  their  luggage. 

"Thank  you  Simpson,"  returned  his  master. 
"  Take  those  things  to  the  morning  room,  and 
ask  Mrs.  Paulding  to  meet  us  there.  Come,  my 
dear,"  assisting  'Chita  from  the  carriage,  "let  me 
welcome  you  to  your  new  home.  I  sincerely  hope 
you  will  be  happy  in  it." 


14  CONCHITA. 

"Yes,"  screams  Poll,  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
"  you  must  be  happy  !" 

"Ah,  you  termagant !"  laughs  Greyson,  "I  don't 
know  what  my  sister  will  say  to  you." 

"  I  will  not  curse  !"  she  croaks,  as  they  enter  the 
sitting  mom. 

Here  they  find  Mrs.  Paulding,  a  rather  stout, 
though  terribly  dignified  lady,  dressed  in  the  latest 
fashion. 

She  kisses  her  brother  coldly,  then,  turning  to 
'Chita  surveys  her  insolently,  remarking  sarcasti- 
cally, ''  So,  this  is  the  'little  girl,'  the  young  infant 
you  wished  me  to  care  for  ?  really,  my  dear  brother, 
you  are  in  need  of  spectacles." 

Nevertheless,  she  extends  her  plump  white  hand 
for  the  "young  infant "  to  press,  but  steps  back  in 
indignant  amaze  when  Poll,  now  perched  on  her 
mistress's  shoulder,  stretches  out  one  foot,  saying 
in  Spanish,  "  Polly  too  !  Poor  Poll !" 

"Earnest !"  thundered  his  sister  in  awful  accents, 
"do  you  expect  me,  a  Christian  woman  to  live  in 
the  house  with  that  thing  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Madam.  However,  we  can  discuss 
that  subject  later;  just  now,  I  should  be  obliged  if 
you  would  jshow  Conchita  to  her  room." 

"  Conchita  !  What  a  heathenish  name  !  No ;  I 
will  ring  for  Louise." 

"  Conchita  was  my  mother's  name,"  says  our 
heroine,  her  dark  eyes  flashing  defiantly,  "and  I 
would  thank  you  to  be  a  little  more  respectful  to 
her  memory. " 

Fortunately,  Louise,  the  maid,  appeared  at  this 
crisis,  and  on  receiving  the  order,  conducted  Con- 
chita to  her  apartment.  It  greatly  resembled  a 
nursery,  for  Mrs.  Paulding,  like  her  brother,  had 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  15 

imagined  Mr.  Merle's  "  little  girl "  still  a  small  child. 

'Chita's  baggage  had  been  already  brought  up, 
and  Louise,  politely  attentive,  asks  if  she  should  un- 
pack and  arrange  her  things  ? 

But  no,  Miss  Merle  wants  nothing  but  quiet,  so 
the  kindly  disposed  servant  leaves  her. 

But  she  is  not  long  alone,  for,  scarcely  had  the 
door  closed,  when  a  quick  rap  is  heard,  and  before 
permission  is  given,  it  is  opened  and  shut  with  a 
loud  bang. 

'Chita  regards  her  unceremonious  visitor  in  silent 
astonishment. 

She  is  a  rather  pretty  little  blonde  of  twenty 
years,  with  neat,  slender  figure  and  vivacious  man- 
ners. 

After  one  good  look,  she  seizes  'Chita  in  her  arms 
and,  giving  her  a  vigorous  hug  and  kiss,  exclaims  : 

"  There  !  I  knew,  just  the  minute  I  looked  at  you 
that  I  should  fall  quite  in  love  !  But  of  course  you 
have  no  idea  who  I  am.  Allow  me,  Miss  Merle," 
with  an  extravagant  drawing-room  curtesy"  to 
present  to  your  kindly  consideration  Miss  Viva 
Paulding,  daughter  of  the  exceedingly  sweet  tem- 
pered lady  you  met  down  stairs.  But  the  idea  "  she 
continued,  throwing  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  giv- 
ing her  companion  no  time  for  reply,  "  of  our  think- 
ing you  a  baby,  and  fixing  up  such  a  room — I  declare 
it  is  too  ridiculous " 

"Chatter!  Chatter!"  interrupts  Poll.  "Bad  girl 
talk  too  much." 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  delightful  old  thing !  You  were 
the  cause  of  my  mother's  black  looks — how  I  do 
wish  you  could  speak  English !  Conchita,  child, 
why  don't  you  say  something  ?  you  have  not  opened 
your  mouth  since  I've  been  in  the  room." 


16  CONCHITA, 

"Because,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  have  given 
me  no  opportunity." 

"There!"  pouted  the  chatter-box,  "one  would 
think  you  my  Uncle's  own  child.  The  very  first  re- 
mark you  make  is  a  reproach  to  my  constant  chat- 
ter and  that,  you  must  know,  is  his  lordship's  pet 
theme." 

"You  misunderstand,"  says  'Chita,  smilingly,  "I 
rather  like  your  talk— it  is  novel," 

"  Oh,  how  perfectly  delightful !  You  are  a  rare 
treasure,  my  love !  You  cannot  imagine  the  ex- 
quisite joy  it  is  to  talk  to  an  appreciative  listener — 
but  my  dear  child,  how  is  it  you  speak  such  plain 
English?  Scarcely  a  perceptible  accent." 

"My  Father  taught  me/'  "My  Uncle  speaks 
Spanish  nicely,  doesn't  he  ?  I've  heard  so,  but  am 
no  judge  of  such  small  matters — by  the  by — what 
do  you  think  of  the  old  fellow— handsome,  isn't  he  ? 
I'm  real  proud  of  him." 

"He  is  also  kind  and  gentle." 

"Gentle?  poor  child!  you  know  nothing  about 
him.  Wait  till  you've  had  a  few  royal  rows — oh  yes  ! 
he  is  kind  enough  when  you  don't  rouse  him.  You 
must  be  a  pink  of  propriety,  my  dear,  never  say  or 
do  naughty  things,  humbly  beg  pardon  for  things 
you  never  do,  regulate  both  your  thoughts  and 
actions  to  Ms  will,  or  you  will  encounter  storms! 
But  I  won't  tell  any  more  tales,  for  I  really  love 
Uncle  Earnest — in  spite  of  our  many  skirmishes,  and 
he  is  just  as  good  as  he  is  bad — so  there  now  !  Well," 
rising  to  withdraw,  "  I  must  tear  myself  away — for 
a  short  time  only — and  strongly  recommend  a  good 
sound  nap." 

She  disappears,  and  'Chita,  following  her  advice,, 
is  soon  in  dreamland. 


CHAPTER   V. 


"  A  ND  I  would  ask,  merely  as  a  matter  of  curiosity 

1\  — of  course,  I  have  no  personal  feelings — if 
you  expect  that  aggravating  parrot  to  remain 
here  ?" 

A  week  has  passed  since  our  heroine's  arrival,  and 
Mrs.  Paulding,  in  her  coldest,  most  biting  tones  is 
engaged  in  what  Viva  terms  "the  delightful  occu- 
pation of  nagging  Uncle  Earnest." 

But  she  doesn't  make  much  of  it  this  morning,  for 
when  tormented,  he  can  be  as  hard  as  rock.  His 
manner  is  icily  polished,  as  he  replies  : 

"1  shall  gratify  your  curiosity  on  this  occasion, 
though,  as  a  rule,  I  never  encourage  it.  Yes,  I  ex- 
pect the  parrot  to  remain  where  she  is.  Any  other 
information  my  dear  ?" 

They  always  said  "  my  dear  "  when  angry. 

She  was  furious  and  sincerely  wished  that  he  was 
thirty  years  younger,  so  that  she  might  indulge — 
not  her  curiosity,  but  her  anger — by  a  direct  appli- 
cation of  the  slipper. 

But,  remembering  her  entire  dependence  on  him, 
she  refrained  from  saying  anything  more  bitter 
than  : 

"My  wishes,  then,  are  not  to  be  considered,  when 
opposed  to  those  of  a  silly  girl !  Really,  one  would 
think  there  is  still  truth  in  the  old  saw,  '  No  fool 


18  CONCHITA. 

like  an  old  fool ! '  The  one  woman  whose  every 
whim  you  gratified  in  days  gone  by " 

"  Alice  !  "  he  thundered,  "  never  mention  that 
name,  or  by  the  living  God  you  will  repent  it  !  I  am 
master  here,  and,  if  you  wish  to  be  driven  out  by  a 
poor,  unoffending  girl  and  a  senseless  bird,  go  !  We 
will  endeavor  to  bear  your  absence." 

She  rose,  and  assuming  her  most  majestic  man- 
ner, passed  through  the  door  which  he  politely  held 
open. 

Earnest  Greyson,  ten  years  before  our  story  be- 
gan, had  become  so  completely  infatuated  with  a 
beautiful  French  actress,  that  he  married,  and,  as 
his  sister  said,  "pandered  to  her  every  whim." 

The  fascination  lasted,  till,  one  miserable  day, 
about  six  months  after  marriage,  he  found,  beyond 
the  possibility  of  a  doubt,  that  she  had  been  untrue 
to  him. 

They  had  a  few  words — he  in  a  terrible  rage,  she 
exasperatingly  cool.  That  very  night,  she  ran  away 
with  a  former  lover,  and  her  husband  saw  her  no 
more. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  procuring  a  divorce,  but 
nothing  could  fill  the  great,  bitter  void  of  his  heart . 
But  hard  work  is  a  great  comforter ;  so,  devoting 
himself  to  his  favorite  study — Law,  he  soon  became 
known  as  a  talented  solicitor,  much  sought  after  in 
difficult  cases. 

His  sister,  Mrs.  Paulding,  becoming  a  widow  just 
then,  gladly  accepted  his  offer  of  a  home,  for  she 
was  by  no  means  well  off.  Unfortunately,  all 
parties  had  strong  wills  and  hot  tempers,  which 
often  caused  much  unpleasantness. 

Viva  and  Uncle  Earnest  indulged  in  many  "  little 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  19 

skirmishes,"  but  their  mutual  affection  prevented 
anything  more  serious. 

Of  the  beautiful  wretch,  once  his  wife,  Earnest 
often  heard  through  the  press ;  for  she  had  returned 
to  the  stage  under  her  old  name — whether  real,  or 
assumed,  he  never  knew. 

And  now,  though  quite  wealthy,  he  was  known 
as  one  of  the  hardest  workers  in  the  city ;  a  cold, 
polished  man,  caring  nothing  for  society,  a  verita- 
ble woman  hater;  just,  but  exacting. 

Highly  honorable  ;  a  fine  matrimonial  catch,  but 
not  catchable.  In  fact,  a  non-committal  man. 

As  Conchita  was  in  deep  mourning,  and  could  not, 
with  propriety,  enter  society,  Mrs.  Paulding  decided 
to  give  up  their  usual  sea-side  visit,  and  spend  the 
remainder  of  the  hot  weather  in  some  quiet  mount- 
ain retreat. 

Mr.  Greyson  would  join  them  later,  should  the 
hunting  and  fishing  prove  good. 

So  they  packed,  and  after  a  few  hours  run,  found 
themselves  comfortably  settled  in  a  large,  airy 
farm-house,  whose  fat,  good-natured  mistress 
thought  nothing  too  good  for  the  young  ladies,  but 
to  whom  "  Madam  "  was  a  great  terror. 

Mr.  Greyson,  being  duly  informed  of  the  game 
supply,  wrote  that  he  would  join  them  shortly. 

Mrs.  Paulding  spends  most  of  her  time  in  reading 
novels,  preserving  her  complexion,  polishing  her 
nails,  taking  naps  and  scolding  the  girls. 

"Conchita,"  says  Viva  one  afternoon,  "I  am 
tired  to  death  of  this  dull  life  !  Let  us  do  something 
outrageous  !  Anything  for  variety,  you  know." 

"What  do  you  propose ?"  asked  her  quieter  com- 
panion. 

"Why — can  you  ride  on  horseback?" 


20  CONCHITA. 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  my  pet,  I  have  a  lovely  plan  which  we 
can  carry  out  beautifully  if  you  only  have  the  proper 
spirit.  You  know  that  horse  of  Mrs.  Simms' — the 
long  backed  one  we  saw  plowing — now,  I  propose, 
Miss  Propriety,  that  we  take  a  ride  on  the  graceful 
animal.  What  thinkest  thou?" 

"Surely  you  don't  mean  for  both  of  us  to  ride 
him  at  the  same  time  ?" 

"  'Surely'  I  do,"  she  mimics. 

"But  Mrs.  Simms — will  she  not  object?" 

"Ask  her  nothing  about  it.  There's  no  harm— 
and  I'll  think  it  real  down  mean  if  you  refuse.  Say 
quick — yes  or  no  ?" 

"Well,  if  you  think  there  is  no  harm — I  know  so 
little  of  American  ways — we  may  as  Well  have  the 
frolic.  But,  Viva,  what  would  your  mother  say  ?" 

"  Oh,  let  her  say — who  cares  ?  What's  the  use  of 
being  young  if  you  never  have  any  fun  ?  Come 
along,  let's  hunt  a  bridle  and  saddle,  though  I  am 
sure  I  have  no  idea  how  to  put  them  on  the 
creature." 

Away  they  go,  find  the  proper  equipments,  then 
catch  the  horse,  a  long  bodied  animal,  quite  capable 
of  carrying  double.  But  how  to  saddle  him  ?  Both 
had  often  seen  it  done,  but  had  no  definite  idea  on 
the  subject.  At  last  he  is  "rigged"  to  their  satis- 
faction, and  'Chita,  mounted  in  the  saddle,  Viva 
holding  on  behind,  they  start  on  their  pleasure  trip, 
laughing  gaily  at  every  step. 

"Can't  vou  make  him  go  a  little  faster?"  asks 
Viva,  as  they  canter  down  the  most  sequestered 
road  in  the  neighborhood.  "What's  the  use  of 
poking  through  life  ?" 

"I  think  not/'  returns  'Chita.  "We  are  nearly  at 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  21 

full  speed  now,  and  I  am  afraid  you  would  fall, 
should  lie  begin  running. 

"  Oh,  I  can  stay  on.  He  is  fat  and  lazy,  and  needs 
the  switch."  Taking  the  switch  from  'Chita,  she 
gives  one  sharp  cut  across  his  back.  Here  is  her 
own  description  of  what  followed : 

"  The  switch  had  barely  touched  him  when  the 
miserable  wretch  gave  such  a  spring  that  I  tumbled 
off.  Recovering  from  the  shock,  I  looked  about  for 
my  late  companions,  and  saw  them  flying  along  at 
full  speed.  'Chita,  her  long  black  hair  floating  far 
behind,  her  little  hands  clutching  wildly  at  the  reins, 
remained  firmly  seated,  though  I  know  she  was 
scared  most  to  death.  Of  course  I  followed  as  fast 
as  possible,  making  hundreds  of  resolutions  never, 
never  to  do  it  again,  when  to  nay  infinite  relief,  I 
saw  a  man  spring  from  the  wood,  catch  the  bridle 
and  hold  the  horse  quite  still  !  He  lifted  'Chita 
down,  and  she  stood  leaning  against  a  tree.  I  was 
awfully  glad  to  find  she  was  not  hurt — -only  a  little 
'weak  from  her  unusual  exertion.  But  imagine  my 
amaze,  on  turning  to  thank  our  preserver,  to  find 
him  no  other  than  my  old  crony,  Harry  McAlister." 

"  Oh  Harry  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  are  a  perfect 
jewel !  What  on  earth  should  we  have  done  with- 
out you?  And  how  did  you  happen  to  be  so 
near?" 

"  This,  you  must  know,  my  dear  young  lady,  is 
favorite  hunting  ground.  But  who  is  your  friend  ?" 
he  asks,  lowering  his  voice.  "  She's  a  perfect 
beauty  !" 

"Oh  that's  Uncle  Earnest  Greyson's  ward — 
just  from  Mexico — come,  let  me  introduce  you." 

The  girls  explain  their  adventure,  and  they  chat 
merrily  for  some  time.  Finally,  Viva  remarks : 


XX  CONCHITA. 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  know  how  we  are  to  get 
back.  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  which  way  to 
start ;  have  you,  'Chita  ?" 

"  No ;"  answered  that  young  lady,  "but  if  you 
are  not  afraid  to  remount,  the;'  horse  will  take  us 
back." 

Viva  was  willing,  especially  when  Mr.  McAlister 
assured  them  that  there  was  no  danger  ;  that  their 
steed  had  cooled  down,  and  would  not  run  of  his 
own  accord. 

"Now,  Harry,"  says  Viva,  "  if  ever  you  let  Uncle 
Earnest  hear  of  this  scrape,  I'll  clip  your  accquaint- 
ance." 

"  '  Is  thy  servant  a  dog  ? ' "  quotes  he.  "  Rest  as- 
sured, 'twill  never  reach  him  ;  for  how  could  I  en- 
dure life  without  your  sweet  smile  ?  But,  do  be 
merciful  and  let  me  call." 

"  Oh  we'll  be  charmed,  if  you  behave  nicely,  and 
don't  tell  tales.  We  are  at  Mrs.  Simms' — you  know 
where  she  lives  ?" 

"  No,  but  can  soon  find  out.  Good-bye  !"  he  calls, 
as  they  gently  canter  down  the  road. 

"Well,"  he  mused,  "if  Miss  Viva  does  not  get 
herself  into  serious  trouble,  I'll  be  surprised.  What 
imp  of  thoughtlessness  could  have  prompted  her  to 
ride  a  strange  horse — double,  at  that  ?  The  other 
one,  though — she's  true  mettle.  How  superbly  she 
held  her  own  !  But  Viva — she'll  need  a  strong,  firm 
hand  to  control  her  restless  nature."  And  wonder- 
ing, vaguely,  if  his  hands  were  strong  and  firm 
enough  for  the  undertaking,  he  picks  up  his  gun 
and  hunting-bag;  and  walks  slowly  off,  to  his 
boarding-house. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


says    Viva,  as    they  come  near  the 
house,   "  suppose   someone   sees  us.    What 
shall  we  do  ?" 

"  Why,  put  the  horse  where  we  got  him,  and  con- 
fess to  Mrs.  Simms.  'Twould  be  better,  any  way." 

"  You  may  be  right ;  I  feel  repentant  enough  to 
show  my  penitence  in  any  way.' 

Fortunately,  they  escape  notice,  and  putting  the 
horse  and  his  gear  where  they  found  them,  make 
their  way  to  the  house,  looking  as  demure  as 
nuns. 

In  the  cool,  shady  parlor,  they  find  Mr.  Greyson, 
who  had  arrived  before  he  was  expected. 

"Ah,  young  ladies  !"  he  exclaims,  laying  aside  his 
book,  "come  here  and  give  an  account  of  your- 
selves. I  have  been  here,"  glancing  at  his  watch, 
"  two  hours  and  a  half,  yet,  till  now,  have  been  un- 
able to  see  or  hear  of  you.  Where  have  you  been, 
my  dears  ?" 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  says  Viva,  mimicing  his  tone, 
"  do  you  want  the  truth,  or  a  fib  ?" 

' '  The  truth,  always,  you  saucy  piece,"  he  returns 
with  a  laugh. 

"Very  well,  then — ask  no  uncomfortable  questions, 
for  we  shall  neither  tell  where  we  have  been,  nor 
anything  about  this  afternoon's  occupation.  Shall 
we  'Chita?" 


24:  CONCHITA. 

"  I  should  feel  better  satisfied  if  we  told  you? 
Uncle,"  returns  her  companion. 

"Well  I  should  not.  So  my  dear  Uncle,  you 
must  really  excuse  us.  Come  Conchita,  we  must 
dress  before  her  ladyship  discovers  us." 

Later  on,  in  their  own  room  she  remarks  severely  : 

"  What  is  the  use  of  confessing  everything  ?  I 
suppose,  that,  being  a  Catholic,  you  have  to  tell  all 
your  misdoings  to  the  priest — but  there  is  no  earthly 
use  in  making  Uncle  Earnest  your  Father  Con- 
fessor." 

"  But  Viva,  is  it  right  to  deceive  him,  even  in  a 
trifle  ?" 

"  Why,  child,  we  don't  deceive  him — we  simply 
don't  tell  him.  Don't  you  see,  Miss  Innocence  ?" 

Mr.  McAlister  called  a  few  evenings  later. 

"  Why  Harry,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Greyson,  "  how  did 
you  know  we  were  here  ?" 

"Oh,"  he  answered  carelessly,  "I  met  the  young 
ladies  in  their  rambles,  and  begged  permission  to 
call — 'twas  granted  only  on  peculiar  conditions — 
But  receiving  a  warning  glance  from  Viva's  blue 
eyes,  he  abruptly  changed  the  subject. 

Harry  and  Viva  had  long  been  devoted  friends 
and  firm  allies  in  many  a  piece  of  mischief.  They 
had  been  intimate  for  years,  and  teased,  tormented, 
and  admired  each  other  immensely. 

Though  not  wealthy,  his  bread  was  comfortably 
buttered ;  for  his  bachelor  apartments  were  luxuri- 
ous, his  saddle  horse  one  of  the  finest,  his  tandem 
incomparable,  his  garments  perfection.  He  had 
some  talent,  and  would,  probably,  have  succeeded 
in  literature  had  fortune  been  less  kind.  True, 
when  overcome  by  periodical  spells  of  industry,  he 
wrote  breezy,  spicy  articles  which  were  usually 


A   MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  25 

accepted.  But,  being  naturally  indolent,  and  need- 
ing the  spur  of  necessity,  he  failed  in  application. 

Notwithstanding  the  difference  of  age  and  posi- 
tion, Mr.  Greyson  and  he  were  very  fond  of  each 
other;  and  were,  therefore,  mutually  delighted  to 
meet  in  this  sleepy  little  country  town. 

Viva  was  delighted  at  his  acquisition,  for  unless 
in  some  mischief,  time  hung  heavily  on  her  hands ; 
and,  since  their  last  escapade,  'Chita  declined  posi- 
tively engaging  in  another. 

At  last,  to  her  great  relief,  they  return  home. 
Cool  weather  is  at  hand,  and  the  fashionable  world 
will  soon  begin  its  round  of  pleasure.  All  its 
daughters,  therefore,  must  be  up  and  doing. 

"Mr.  Greyson,"  said  'Chita  one  morning,  as  they 
sit  in  the  library,  "  I  should  like  to  take  music  and 
drawing  lessons,  if  you  do  not  object." 

"  Certainly,  child,  why  should  I  ?"  regarding  her 
kindly.  "  1  shall  engage  you  proper  instructors  to- 
day. Would  you  prefer  private  lessons,  or  going  as 
'  special '  to  one  of  our  fashionable  schools  ?" 

"  Private  lessons,  please ;  I  should  feel  so  awk- 
ward among  a  lot  of  fashionable  young  ladies." 

"Just  as  you  like,"  he  says,  smiling  at  her  dis- 
gusted look.  "  I  recommend  also,  a  course  of  reading. 
Historic,  scientific  or  classic.  You  will,  soon,  be 
entirely  deprived  of  Viva's  company,  for  society  will 
demand  her  every  thought.  I  can,  if  you  like,  read 
with  you  two  hours,  both  morning  and  evening." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  But — has  not  society  claims  on 
you  ?  Should  I  take  so  much  of  your  time  ?" 

"  Society  is  nothing  to  me,  while  you — you  should 
take  all  the  time  I  can  give  you." 

"You  are  kind,"  she  says,  pressing  her  ripe  red 
lips  gratefully  to  his  strong,  white  hand. 


26  CONCHITA. 

"Kind!"  he  exclaims,  flushing  hotly,  "yes,  tp 
myself." 

So  it  came  to  pass,  that  each  morning,  from  eight 
to  ten,  and  the  same  hours  every  evening,  Conchita 
and  her  guardian  might  be  found,  busily  engaged 
in  study. 

He  proved  a  delightful  teacher;  and,  while  she 
thoroughly  enjoyed  each  book  they  read,  lie  was 
making  an  unconscious  study  of  her. 

"Earnest,"  remarked  Mrs.  Paulding,  in  an  an- 
noyed tone,  several  weeks  after  'Chita's  lessons  be- 
gan, "  I  really  think  it  very  inconsiderate  in  you  to 
have  that  girl  constantly  thumping  on  the  drawing- 
room  piano.  Simpson  has  brought  in  company  sev- 
eral times,  to  find  her  thumping  away  at  the  five- 
finger  exercises — it  is  too  horribly  vexatious  !" 

"  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Paulding,  I  accidentally  over- 
heard your  remark,"  says  'Chita,  entering  with  her 
books.  "Believe  me — I  will  give  up  my  lessons, 
rather  than  inconvenience  you." 

"You  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort."  Her  guardi- 
an's tone  is  quiet,  but  his  face  has  assumed  what 
Viva  calls  his  "black  look."  "  It  is  my  wish  that  you 
continue.  Professor  N" says  you  have  remark- 
able talent,  which  should  be  cultivated. 

Mrs.  Paulding,  I  can  arrange  this  matter  satisfac- 
torily to  all  parties — so,  say  nothing  more  about  it." 

Next  morning,  on  entering  the  library,  Conchita 
is  both  surprised  and  delighted  to  see  a  handsome 
piano. 

"Yes,"  says  her  guardian,  answering  her  elo- 
quent eyes.  "  I  had  it  brought  for  your  own  use  ; 
and,  as  we  occupy  this  room,  almost  exclusively, 
expect  to  hear  no  complaints.  Are  you  pleased,  lit- 
tle woman?  Ah,  I  see  you  are." 


A  MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  27 

"My  dear,  dear  guardian/'  she  murmurs,  sinking 
on  the  stool  beside  him,  and  covering  his  hand  with 
kisses,"  you  are  too  kind  and  good  to  me." 

"You  think  me  kind,  little  one  ?"  pressing  an  un- 
seen kiss  upon  her  dark  hair.  "Most  people  would 
tell  you  I  am  a  hard,  stern  man." 

"  Never,  to  me !  You  are  much  kinder  than  I  de- 
serve— but  Mr.  Greyson,  why  does  your  sister  dislike 
me  ?  I  try  my  utmost  to  please  her,  but  - 

"  Try  not  to  mind  her,"  he  interrupts,  "she  has 
had  a  case  of  chronic  ill-temper  for  years — but,  Con- 
chita,  if  ever  you  are  annoyed,  when  little  troubles 
arise,  will  you  not  come  to  me  for  aid  ?" 

"Gladly, "she  answers,  wondering  how  anyone 
could  think  him  unkind. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


A  YEAR  has  passed  since  the  occurrence  of  the 
above  conversation  ;  and  during  that  time  our 
heroine  has  made  rapid  progress  both  in  music  and 
drawing. 

Professor  N never  tires  of  praising  "  Miss 

Merle's  wonderful  voice  and  exquisite  touch." 

Her  life,  during  the  past  year,  had  been  quiet, 
though  not  unhappy;  for,  though  she  could  not 
escape  an  occasional  jar  with  Mrs.  Paulding,  the 
hours  spent  with  her  art  work,  and  above  all,  those 
delightful  morning  and  evening  studies,  more 
than  compensated. 

Viva,  occasionally,  entertained  her  with  lengthy 
descriptions  of  balls,  receptions,  kettle-drums,  etc., 
and  often  insisted  on  'Chita's  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  some  elaborate  toilette,  declaring  her 
arrangement  of  draperies,  flowers  and  ribbons  far 
better  than  Louise's. 

Mrs.  Paulding,  sometimes  gave  a  recherche  little 
dinner  at  which  Conchita,  though  excused  from 
larger  parties,  was  expected  to  appear. 

Here  she  met  many  refined,  intelligent  people,  all 
of  whom  showed  a  kindly  interest  in  the  young 
Mexican. 

Mr.  McAlister  called  often,  always  asking  for  Miss 
Merle,  but  rarely  seeing  her. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  29 

"Conchita,"  said  he  guarrdian  one  day  in  March, 

"  Prof.  N is  very  anxious  to  have  you  sing  at 

Mrs.  Leonard's  concert.  He  attacked  me  fiercely 
last  night." 

"Why,"  she  returns  in  surprise,  "I  told  Mrs. 
Leonard  last  week  I  could  not  oblige  her,  and  she 
spoke  of  getting  someone  else." 

"  But  failed.    When  does  the  affair  take  place  ?" 

"  Next  Wednesday — I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  her, 
but — she  should  not  have  depended  on  me  for  so 
difficult  a  part.  Then,  you  know,  I  am  still  in 
mourning." 

"  Rather  than  have  her  engage  a  professional,  you 
had  better  take  the  part.  Your  dress,  she  tells  me, 
should  be  pure  white." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  if  you  wish  it.  Prof.  N 

thinks  I  can  learn  it  easily — he  has  been  training 
the  others,  you  know." 

"  Very  well,  I  know  the  good  lady  will  be  relieved. 
Speak  to  Mrs.  Paul  ding  about  ordering  your  cos- 
tume— -ah,  that  reminds  me,  here  is  your  allow- 
ance," handing  her  a  roll  of  bilk;, 

The  concert  they  spoke  of  was  a  charitable  enter- 
tainment gotten  up  by  Mrs.  Leonard,  one  of  the 
select  few  Conchita  had  met  since  her  residence  in 
the  great  metropolis. 

Now,  Mrs.  Leonard  had  set  her  heart  on  'Chita's 
taking  the  principal  part  in  the  cantata,  well  know- 
ing her  striking  tropical  beauty  and  rich  young 
voice  would  cause  a  sensation  among  the  upper 
crust.  Finding  that  her  persuasions  were  useless, 
she  appealed  in  such  piteous  terms  to  Mr.  Greyson, 
that  he,  as  we  have  just  seen,  gave  his  assistance. 

The  important  evening  arrives,  and  Conchita 
stands  before  her  mirror,  clad  in  a  long,  trailing 


30  CONCHITA. 

white  silk,  gracefully  draped  with  tulle.  Her  beau- 
tiful shoulders  are  bare,  and  her  well  rounded  arms 
but  partly  concealed  by  the  long  white  gloves. 
Dainty  satin  slippers  peep  from  beneath  her  dress, 
and  in  her  long,  flowing  tresses  is  a  cluster  of  lilies- 
of-the-valley.  A  spray  of  the  same  is  fastened  at 
her  left  shoulder,  and,  crossing  the  front,  diago- 
nally, is  lost,  somewhere  in  the  back  draperies. 

As  she  stands  thus,  surveying  herself  approv- 
ingly, Louise  enters  with  the  information  that  the 
carriage  is  waiting,  but  Mr.  Grey  son  "  wants  to  see 
you  in  the  library,  Miss." 

He  is  pacing  the  room  with  rapid  strides,  an  open 
telegram  in  his  hand. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  dear  child,"  he  says  as  she  en- 
ters," but  I  am  compelled  to  leave  for  R on  the 

twelve  thirty.  You  cannot  imagine  how  I  regret 
missing  your  performance.  But  " — glancing  at  the 
message  "the  call  is  imperative." 

"I  too  am  sorry,"  she  returns"  for  I  sing  simply 
to  please  you.  But "  anxiously,  "  do  you  like  my 
appearance  ?" 

"  Yes,"  observing  her  critically,  "  That  dark  cur- 
tain makes  an  excellent  background — I  would  like 
your  picture,  just  as  you  stand — the  pose  is  perfect. 

Well,  I  must  not  detain  you,"  taking  both  her 
hands  he  presses  his  lips  to  her  snowy  brow,  whis- 
pering softly,  "good-bye,  my  little  shell,"*  then 
almost  roughly, pushes  her  from  him. 

She,  totally  unaccustomed  to  such  caresses,  was 
so  disconcerted  that  she  entirely  forgot  the  car- 
riage, and  was  surprised  when  Louise  warned  her 
that  "Mrs.  Paulding  is  awfully  impatient,  Miss 
about  waiting  so  long." 

*  Conchita— little  shell.  ; 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  31 

"So  relieved,  my  love,"  says  Mrs.  Leonard,  as 
Chita  enters  the  dressing-room.  "The  others  arrived 
some  time  ago — and  the  house  is  simply  crowded  ; 
I  am  sure  the  evening  will  be  a  perfect  success. 
Ah  !  your  costume  is  exquisite  /" 

The  large  parlors,  which  had  assumed  much  the 
appearance  of  a  theatre,  are  crowded  with  well 
dressed  people,  all  charmed  "  to  help  the  poor  "  by 
attending  a  concert  under  the  auspices  of  the  fash- 
ionable Mrs.  Leonard. 

The  affair  passes  off  with  eclat .  Conchita  receives 
many  compliments  on  her  voice  and  beauty.  As 
soon  as  the  curtain  fell  on  the  first  scene,  the  mini- 
ature green  room  was  so  besieged  by  impressiona- 
ble young  men,  all  begging  "an  introduction  to  the 
new  beauty,"  that  Mrs.  Leonard,  tormented  almost 
out  of  her  senses,  promised  that  if  they  let  her 
alone,  and  kept  others  away,  she  would  "  try  to 
persuade  Miss  Merle  to  receive  you,  though  you 
must  know  she  is  still  at  her  studies,  and  will  not 
come  out  for  some  time." 

Consequently,  Conchita,  who  is  quite  burdened 
with  bouquets,  is  led  forth  willingly  or  not,  and 
presented  to  numerous  admirers. 

Mrs.  Paulding  regards  all  this  adulation  with  a 
disapproving  eye,  and  suggests,  as  soon  as  possible 
that  "as  'Chita  is  certainly  tired,  we  will  return 
home.  And  the  infatuated  dandies  conceive  a  great 
dislike  to  the  portly  lady  as  she  sweeps  down  the 
room,  with  the  two  attractive  girls  following  closely 
in  her  wake. 

"Well,  Conchita,"  remarks  Mr.  Greyson,  a  fewr 
days  after  his  return,  "I  hear  you  created  a  great 
sensation  at  Mrs.  Leonard's.  I've  been  terribly 
bored  by  a  lot  of  young  fellows  who  seem  to  have 


32  CONCHITA. 

gone  crazy  over  your  voice,  your  manner,  your  eyes, 
and  your  costume." 

"  Yes,"  chimed  in  Viva,  "  one  young  spoon  com- 
pared her  eyes  to  '  midnight  stars  !'  Though  why 
1  midnight '  I  cannot  imagine.  Another  vowed  she 
was  the  personification  of  '  her  bright  smile  haunts 
me  still ! '  while  still  another,  saw  in  her  Byron's 
'Maid  of  Athens.'  And,  really,  now,  if  I  should  re- 
peat one-half  they  said,  her  poor  little  head  would 
be  completely  turned." 

"  Oh,  please  don't  !"  begged  'Chita,  blushing  hotly. 
"  It  really  makes  me  ashamed." 

"  Ashamed,  you  silly  girl !  why,  you  should  be  de- 
lighted. Only  think  how  charmed  I  should  be  to 
have  such  lovely  things  said  of  me." 

"  I  must  say,  Viva,  it  is  illjudged,  to  say  the  least 
of  it,  to  repeat  all  this  nonsense."  Mrs.  Paulding's 
tone  is  anything  but  pleasant,  as  she  continues, 
"  You  certainly,  have  been  long  enough  in  society 
to  understand  that  far  more  than  half  the  compli- 
ments paid  are  only  skin  deep." 

il  Really,"  replied  her  daughter,  almost  too  inno- 
cently, "  then,  I  suppose  'twas  only  lip-service  when 
old  Dr.  Brownlow  complimented  you  so  highly  on 
your  youthful  appearance." 

Her  mother  flushed  angrily,  but  was  too  com- 
pletely cornered  to  reply. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


second    summer  is    passed    very 
differently  from  the  one  spent  in  the  hospita- 
ble mansion  of  good  Mrs.  Simms. 

By  the  first  of  July  our  three  ladies  are  enjoying 
all  the  gaieties  of  Newport. 

Mr.  Greyson,  who  heartily  despises  gay  watering 
places,  spoke  of  going  to  some  quiet  mountain  re- 
treat, and  his  ward  begged  to  accompany  him ;  but 
Mrs.  Paulding  sternly  assured  her  such  a  plan  was 
too  "  highly  improper  to  be  thought  of,  even  f o~  a 
moment." 

"  Conchita,"  remarks  Viva,  the  evening  they 
arrive  at  this  gay  sea-side  resort,  "  I  hear  there  is  a 
Spanish  Don  and  English  Duke  in  our  hotel.  Now 
suppose  we  try  our  powers  of  fascination — I  speak 
for  the  Englishman,  as  my  knowledge  of  Spanish  is 
much  too  limited  to  conduct  a  successful  campaign. 
I  might  misconstrue  some  tender  remark,  you  know, 
and  cause  untold  mischief — so,  I  shall  don  my  blue 
silk,  array  myself  in  pearls  and  prepare  to  conquer 
'John  Bull.'" 

"  And  in  what  shall  I  clothe  myself  to  captivate 
the  noble  Spaniard  ?"  laughs  'Chita. 

"  All  your  things  are  lovely,  but  I  really  think 
that  lemon  colored  gauze  would  enchant  him.  Be 
sure  you  take  the  fan  to  match,  for  you  handle  it 
with  the  true  grace  of  your  nation — and  as  good 
luck  would  have  it,  here  is  a  Cloth  of  Gold  for  your 


34  CONCHITA. 

dusky  tresses,"  examining  the  flowers  just  sent  in. 
"Which  of  my  adorers  could  have  sent  it?" 

"  Come  girls/'  says  Mrs.  Paulding,"  we  have  time 
for  a  short  walk  before  dinner." 

' ( Well,  I  declare  !"  exclaims  Viva  as  they  stroll 
leisurely  along  the  beach,  "if  there  isn't  Harry 
McAlister,  talking  to  our  intended  admirers — at 
least,  they  must  be  our  Don  and  Duke,  for  just  see 
what  distinguished  looking  men  they  are  !  My  ! 
but  isn't  the  Don  handsome  ?  Oh  that  I  could  speak 
his  soft,  liquid  language  !  Your  chance  would  be 
nowhere !" 

They  certainly  were  fine-looking  men,  with  that 
unmistakable  air  of  breeding  which  always  stamps 
the  real  gentleman. 

Harry  soon  recognizes  his  friends,  and,  with  a  bow 
to  the  gentlemen,  joins  the  ladies  in  their  prome- 
nade. 

"  And  are  they  really  the  foreigners  I've  heard  so 
much  about  ?"  asks  Viva. 

"Yes,"  he  answers,  "and  they  stared  hard,  as 
soon  as  they  set  eyes  on  you." 

"Oh,  how  delightful!  You  must  know,  Chita 
and  I  expect  to  make  victims  of  them — if  they  stay 

long  enough.  Now,  I  think  '  Viva,  duchess  of ' 

what's  his  name?" 

"Duke  of  C— 

"'Viva,  duchess  of  C ,'  would  look  simply 

charming  in  the  papers — don't  you?" 

"  No,  'twould  be  horrible  to  my  eyes.  I  think — 
but  of  course  you  don't  care  what  I  think." 

"No,  of  course  not,"  very  sweetly. 

"And  /  think,"  remarks  'Chita  with  an  amused 
smile,"  it  is  worse  than  foolish  for  you  two  to  quar- 
rel over  a  thing,  a  name,  rather,  that  in  all  proba- 


A  MEXICAN   ROAIAXCE.  :'!."> 

bility,  will  never  exist.  Silly  children  !  you  should 
be  ashamed  of  yourselves.  1  am  sure,  if  only  smaller 
you  would  pull  hair,  and  claw  each  other,  '  tooth 
and  nail." 

"Now  honestly,  'Chita,"  asks  Viva,  "wouldn't 
you  be  heart-broken  if  deprived  of  the  opportunity 
of  becoming  Donna — ?" 

"No,  indeed!  I  should  much  prefer  being  plain 
Mrs.  Blank." 

"That  remark,  Miss  Merle,"  says  Harry,  "shows 
the  good  sense  of  a  well-balanced  mind.  Our 
American  girls  are  often  so  crazy  as  literally  to  sell 
themselves  for  a  title." 

"  And  among  that  class  of  harmless  lunatics,  you 
probably  class  this  young  person,  whose  poor  brain 
has  never  yet  been  able  to  attain  a  stable  equilibri- 
um ?"  asks  Viva,  scornfully. 

"  Viva !"  exclaims  her  mother,  greatly  shocked, 
"  Mr.  McAlister's  remarks  were  general ;  you  have 
no  right  to  make  them  personal.  But  we  must 
hurry  back  and  dress  for  dinner  ." 

"  May  I  have  the  first  waltz  ?"  whispers  Harry,  as 
he  assists  Viva  up  the  steps  of  their  hotel. 

But  she  turns  a  deaf  ear,  and  marches  off  in  dig- 
nified silence. 

Conchita  lingers  a  few  minutes  to  comfort  him, 
for  she  knows,  in  spite  of  their  many  squabbles  they 
are  really  fond  of  each  other. 

The  brilliant  lights,  fine  music,  beautifully  waxed 
floors,  bright  eyes  and  exquisite  costumes,  all  rend- 
ered the  ball-room  very  attractive  to  pleasure  seekers. 

Our  party  had  no  sooner  entered  the  room,  than 
"our  mutual  friend,"  the  floor  manager,  begged 
permission  to  introduce  "Don  Henrique  Gonzalez 
and  the  Duke  of  C " 


36  CONCHITA. 

Mrs.  Paulding  graciously  consented,  and  the  dis- 
tinguished looking  foreigners  soon  joined  the  group 
of  admirers  already  gathered  about  her  girls. 

The  good  lady  had  a  rather  hard  time  of  it,  rack- 
ing her  poor  brain  for  polite  French  sentences  to 
repeat  to  the  Spaniard.  As  neither  could  speak  the 
other's  language,  and  she  had  sadly  neglected  her 
French,  conversation  was  limited. 

So,  it  was  a  positive  relief,  when  the  Don,  turn- 
ing to  Conchita,  asked  glibly  in  Spanish,  to  favor 
him  for  the  next  waltz. 

"Ah,  Senorita!"  he  exclaims,  after  the  first 
round  of  the  slow,  dreamy  waltz,  "  This  is  truly  like 
heaven.  I  feel  that  my  feet  are  wings,  and  1  am 
floating  through  paradise,  with  an  angel !" 

"Really,  Senor,"  she  returns,  blushing  hotly  at 
his  highflown  compliment,  "you  must  not  express 
yourself  so  extravagantly — it  is  not  customary  in 
America." 

"  But,  Senorita,  I  speak  from  the  heart !  And, 
better  still — the  angel  is  Spanish  and  speaks  my 
own  language." 

Though  annoyed  by  his  many  flatteries,  she  gives 
a  sigh  of  regret  as  the  last  strain  dies  away,  for  his 
dancing  is  the  very  poetry  of  motion. 

"Ah,  the  Senorita  sighs!  she  is  tired?"  offering 
his  arm. 

"No,  not  tired,  only  regretting  that  delightful 
waltz  was  ended.  You  dance  beautifully  Senior." 

"Then,  most  adorable  Senorita  may  I  beg  the 
honor  of  another?" 

She  looks  over  her  tablets,  and  allows  him  the 
joy  of  writing  his  long  name  opposite  a  waltz  near 
the  end  of  the  programme. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  37 

Harry  McAlister  revenges  himself  on  Viva  by 
paying  marked  attention  to  Claudia  Saunders, 
Viva's  "pet  horror." 

Viva  and  her  Duke  find  themselves  opposite  this 
devoted  couple  on  more  than  one  occasion,  and  she 
has  an  uncomfortable  idea  that  they  are  not  acci- 
dentally placed. 

Seeing  him  so  absorbed  in  his  partner,  she  flirts 
outrageously  with  the  Englishman,  gives  him  a  rose 
from  her  hair,  and,  when  certain  Harry  is  looking, 
pins  it  in  his  buttonhole,  with  many  little  airs  and 
graces. 

Poor  Harry  is  terribly  provoked  but  vows  he  will 
make  no  sign. 

"  She's  as  miserable  as  you  are,"  whispers  'Chita, 
as  their  hands  meet  in  the  "grand  chain,"  but  he 
doubted. 

"Haven't  we  had  a  charming  evening?"  says 
Viva,  as  they  retire  to  their  rooms.  "  The  Duke  was 
delightful  and  so  attentive — but  I'm  tired  to  death. 
Good-night." 

"  There's  a  gentleman  in  your  parlor,  Miss,"  said 
a  servant,  as,  late  next  afternoon,  Viva  and  'Chita 
returned  from  the  beach. 

"Why,  "it  must  be  Uncle  Earnest!"  exclaimed 
Viva,  "though  it  is  hardly  time  for  him  yet.  Did 
he  say  he  was  expected  ?" 

"Yes,  Miss,  he  said  you  were  looking  for  him." 

"  Oh  well,  I  know  it  is  he  ;  "  and  away  she  ran  to 
their  private  parlor. 

The  contrast  between  the  bright  sunlight,  and 
the  heavily  curtained  room  was  so  great,  that  she 
could  hardly  see  the  occupant,  but  feeling  so  sure  it 
was  her  Uncle,  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  ex- 
claiming, with  a  good  hearty  kiss,  "  I'm  so  awfully, 


38  CONCHITA. 

awfully  glad  to  see  you  again,  you  dear  old  dar- 
ling!" 

"  And  I  am  '  so  awfully,  awfully'  obliged  for  your 
gracious  reception,  you  dear  little  darling ! "  answers 
the  visitor,  holding  her  close,  and  taking  another 
kiss. 

"Harry  McAlister!'  withdrawing  herself  from 
his  arms,  and  trying  to  wither  him  with  scorn. 
"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  !  " 

"  I'm  not,  though,"  he  answers  in  a  satisfied  tone. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  deceiving  me  so 
basely  ?  Wretched  creature,  I  believe  I  hate  you ! 
Why  did  you  pretend  to  be  Uncle  Earnest  ?" 

"My  dear  girl,  why  will  you  storm  at  me?  I 
assure  you,  I  had  no  idea  of  deceiving  you  ;  I  simply 
came  around  to  smooth  over  our  last  quarrel,  and 
told  the  servant  you  were  expecting  me,  for  you 
have  been  all  day — have  you  not  ?" 

"  I  certainly  expected  you  to  call  and  apologize  for 
your  rudeness.  I,"  in  a  dignified  tone,  "  never 
quarrel." 

"  All  right,"  he  laughs,  good-naturedly,  "/was  a 
horrid  bear,  and  humbly  beg  pardon,  and  you  were 
the  same  sweet  little  witch  you  always  are.  Is  that 
slice  of  '  humble  pie  '  sufficiently  large  to  appease 
your  just  indignation  ?  I  am  desperate — will  say 
anything  you  command." 

"Well,"  relenting -slowly,  "if  I  excuse  you  this 
time,  you  must  promise  never  never  again  to  allude 
to  my  selling  myself.  For,  you  must  know,  I  am 
above  price." 

"  'And  ntfore  to  be  desired  than  gold,  yea,  than 
much  fine  gold.'  But,  are  you  really  expecting 
your  Uncle  ?  " 

"Of  course.     You  don't  think  I  invented  it  on  the 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  3(J 

spur  of  the  moment,  do  you — just  to  excuse  my  own 
awkward  position.     Say,  do  you  ?  "  anxiously. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  teasingly,  " I  am  aware 
that  you  possess  great  inventive  genius ;  and,  too, 
the  ' position'  was  to  me  so  pleasant,  that  I  could 
think  of  nothing  else." 

"  Now,  sir,  you  can  just  hush  !  If  you  don't  be- 
have properly,  I  shall  leave  you  to  your  own  reflec- 
tions." 

They  chat  pleasantly  for  a  half  hour  or  more, 
when,  suddenly,  Mr.  Greyson  enters. 

"  Oh  Uncle  !  "  cries  Viva,  embracing  him  warmly. 
"  Have  you  just  come,  or  have  you  seen  Mama  and 
'Chita?" 

"  Just  arrived,"  he  answers.  "  Have  seen  no  one 
but  yourself.  Glad  to  see  you  Harry ;  "  shaking 
hands,  "  thought  you  were  booked  for  the  moun- 
tains." 

"Excuse  me,"  says  Viva,  "I  must  dress  for 
dinner." 

"  You  dine  at  six  ?"  asked  her  uncle.  "Then  run 
along,  you  have  just  ten  minutes  grace." 

Harry  says  good-bye,  and  Mr.  Greyson,  making  a 
hasty  toilet,  returns  to  the  parlor  just  as  his  sister, 
resplendent  in  lavender  silk  and  diamonds  accom- 
panied by  Conchita,  daintily  robed  in  white,  enters 
the  room. 

The  elder  lady  offers  her  cheek  to  be  kissed,  but 
carefully  holds  back  her  draperies,  warning  him  not 
to  crush  her  lace. 

"  You  can't  think  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,"  says 
'Chita,  offering  her  hand. 

"  And  is  that  your  way  of  showing  it  ?  As  you 
seem  to  have  forgotten  your  Mexican  salutation,  I 
must  refresh  your  memory,"  and,  taking  her  face 


40  CONCHITA. 

between  his  hands,  he  kisses  first  one.  then  the 
other  rosy  cheek. 

"  Brother !"  cries  Mrs.  Paulding,  "I  am  astounded! 
such  conduct  is  remarkably  undignified,  to  say  the 
least,  for  one  of  your  age  and  position.  And,  Con- 
chita,  I  am  shocked  that  you  allow  any  man  such 
liberties.  Young  ladies  should  never  permit  such 
freedom!" 

"  What  should  young  ladies  never  permit  ?  "  asks 
Viva,  who  enters  just  in  time  to  prevent  an  alterca- 
tion, ' '  I  suppose  you  have  been  picking  flaws,  as 
usual,  Mama — for  Uncle  Earnest  looks  like  black 
thunder,  and  poor  'Chita  wears  a  mournful  expres- 
sion as  only  you  can  produce." 

"  I  never  like  to  see  propriety  outraged — but  of 
course,  I  am  always  the  party  at  fault,"  assuming 
an  aggrieved  expression. 

"Yes,"  answers  her  daughter,  sweetly,  "You 
generally  are.  But  do  come  to  dinner,  the  gong 
sounded  ages  ago,  and  I've  always  heard  that  a 
good  meal  was  a  wonderful  help  to  one's  good 
temper." 

"  No  impertinence,  Miss,"  says  her  enraged  parent, 
marching  stiffly  from  the  room. 

"And  now,"  says  Mr.  Greyson,  as,  later  in  the 
evening,  Conchita  and  he  promenade  the  long 
piazza,  "  I  at  last  have  an  opportunity  to  tell  you 
the  object  of  my  visit.  I  must  be  in  New  Orleans 
on  the  twenty-fifth,  and  you,  if  you  like,  may 
accompany  me,  spend  a  few  weeks  with  your  Aunt 
in  Mexico,  and  return  with  me  in  September.  Do 
you  like  the  plan  ?" 

"Yes,  very  much  !"  she  exclaims. 

"  I  see  you  do,"  he  returns  with  a  smile. 


A.  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  41 

"  Auntie  is  so  anxious  to  have  me  visit  her ;  she 
urges  it  in  all  her  letters." 

"And  Alfonso?  Does  he  not  urge  it?"  closely 
scanning  her  face. 

"Yes;"  she  answers  without  embarrassment, 
"but  he  speaks  of  coming  to  see  me,  while  Auntie 
I  know,  will  never  leave  Mexico." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  your  cousin,  are  you  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  We  have  been  devoted  ever  since  we 
played  at  housekeeping,  long  ago  in  '  childhood's 
happy  hour." 

"Ah!  that  is  just  the  point;  now,  that  you  are 
no  longer  children,  do  you  expect  to  'play  at  house- 
keeping in  reality  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  blushing  hotly,  "I  never  think  of 
'Fonso  in  that  way." 

"But  he  does  of  you.  Only  last  week  I  received 
a  long  letter  in  which  he  begs  my  influence  in 
securing  your  consent  to  an  early  marriage. 

Now,  that  your  mourning  is  over,  he  thinks 
you  should  pay  more  attention  to  his  wishes.  So, 
now,  my  pet,  "softly  pressing  the  slender  fingers 
upon  his  arm,  "will  you  remain  in  Mexico  with 
your  young  lover,  or  return  home  with  your  old 
guardian  ?" 

"  Return  with  you,  of  course.  But,  have  you 
heard  any  Mexican  news — political  news,  I  mean  ?" 

"Yes,  it  is  reported  that  France  will  withdraw 
her  troops  some  time  during  the  summer.  Your 
cousin,  however,  thinks  it  untrue.  'Twould  be  cer- 
tain death  to  the  empire,  if  not  to  the  Emperor" 

"  But  why  should  France  desert  Maximilian  ?" 

"Napoleon,  I  think,  is  a  little  afraid  of  the  United 
States.  Our  country,  you  know,  has  always  been 
suspicious  of  French  influence — or,  I  might  say 


42  CONCHITA. 

power,  in  Mexico ;  though,  two  years  ago,  when 
Maximilian  became  Emperor,  we  were  too  busily 
engaged  in  our  own  unpleasantness  to  interfere. 

I  have  heard,  through  a  friend  in  power  at  Wash- 
ington, that  a  lengthy  diplomatic  correspondence 
has  been  carried  on  with  France  regarding  the  mat- 
ter, which  has  just  terminated  in  Napoleon's  prom- 
ise to  withdraw  the  troops. 

Deprived  of  French  aid,  Maximilian  will  scarcely 
be  so  mad  as  to  remain " 

"Ah,  Sinorita,"  interrupts  the  Don,"  what  happi- 
to  find  you  once  more !  I  was  miserable !  in  de- 
spair !  of  the  three  waltzes  you  promised,  I  have 
lost  two — but  I  searched  everywhere  and  could  find 
you  not !  Come,  hear  you  not  the  music  ?  We  will 
float  to  its  heavenly  strains  !" 

"First,  let  me  present  my  guardian — Mr.  Grey- 
son,  Don  Henrique  Gonzalez." 

With  a  low  bow  to  Mr.  Greyson,  the  Don  hurried 
her  away  to  fulfil  her  engagement. 

Mrs.  Paulding  made  numerous  objections  to 
'Chita's  Mexican  visit — stormed,  scolded,  persuaded 
but  all  in  vain. 

"  You  are  becoming  more  and  more  like  Earnest ;" 
she  said,  "stubbornness  is  no  name  for  your  con- 
duct. A  mule  is  docile  compared  with  you  !" 

"Mrs.  Paulding,"  returns  'Chita  indignantly, 
''•  why  do  you  treat  me  so  ?  I  am  never  unmindful 
of  your  feelings." 

"Don't  speak  to  me  of  feelings,  you  artful  girl! 
Of  course  it  is  not  hurtful  to  my  feelings  to  stand  by 
and  see  my  poor  brother  inveigled  into  everytliittfj, 
no  matter  how  unreasonable  or  even  reckless  that 
enters  your  silly  brain.  Oh,  no !  you  have  never 


A  MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  43 

annoyed  me — but  I  wash  my  hands  of  it,  you  may 
go  where  and  with  whom  you  please — I  shall  not 
attempt  to  prevent  it.  But,  you  will  remember  my 
warning  when  you  find  yourself  hopelessly  mixed 
in  political  intrigues." 

"My  stay  in  Mexico  will  scarcely  permit  of  that. 
— I  go  merely  to  visit  relatives." 

"Ah  yes  !  and  one  of  them  is,  I  believe,  devoted 
to  the  Emperor." 

"Yes,  my  cousin  is  much  attached  to  His 
Majesty." 

"  And  it's  my  opinion  that  your  Emperor,  cousin 
and  entire  Catholic  party  will  come  to  grief.  Self- 
will,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  is  always  punished; 
Earnest  will  probably  die  of  yellow  fever,  and  you, 
perhaps,  meet  your  death  in  some  .Mexican  riot. 
But,  have  your  own  way,  by  all  means,  I  haven't  a 
word  to  say,"  with  which  comforting  remark  she 
sweeps  angrily  from  the  room. 

"Conchita!  Conchita!"  calls  Viva,  "have  you 
finished  your  battle  ?  Yes,  I  see  she  got  the  best  of 
it.  Come.  Uncle  and  Harry  are  waiting — hurry  or 
she'll  swoop  down  on  us.  Now,  do,  child,  try  to 
look  a  little  more  cheerful — your  look  says  plainly, 
'  the  burden  laid  upon  me,  is  greater  than  I  can 
bear.' " 


CHAPTER 


TWO  weeks  later,  we  find  Conchita  and  her 
guardian  cosily  established  at  the  St.  Charles 
Hotel,  New  Orleans.  She  will  remain  only  a  few 
days  in  the  Crescent  City,  then  continue  her  journey 
alone,  remaining  with  Donna  Castro  till  called  for. 

'Twas  now  about  noon.  Mr.  Greyson  bade  her 
good-bye  immediately  after  breakfast,  but  promised 
to  devote  himself  to  her  pleasure  after  dinner. 

As  she  sits  at  her  window,  idly  watching  the  ever 
changing  crowd  below,  she  is  disturbed  by  a  rap. 
On  permission,  a  servant  enters,  saying : 

"Bar's  a  lady,  mum,  what  wants  to  see  you,  an' 
axed  to  be  brung  ter  your  comprivate  repartment." 

"  A  lady  to  see  me  ?"  said  'Chita,  "  surely  you  are 
mistaken — I  have  no  acquaintances  here.' 

"You  see  mum,  she  ax  fur  Massa  Greyson,  an'  I 
tell  her  he  done  lef  de  house.  Den  she  say,  '  de 
young  lady,  I  see  her  ! ' ' 

"Very  well,  you  may  show  her  up.  I  wonder," 
she  says  to  herself,  "  who  it  can  be  ?  " 

She  has  not  long  to  wait,  for  in  a  few  minutes  the 
door  is  thrown  open,  and  in  walks  a  handsome 
showily  dressed  woman  of  thirty  years.  She  is  pos- 
sessed of  a  small,  well-proportioned  figure,  brilliant 
brunette  complexion,  full  red  lips  and  fine  black 
eyes,  through  which  she  regards  'Chita  insolently  a 


A   MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  45 

few  minutes,  then  coolly  seats  herself  in  the  most 
comfortable  chair,  exclaiming  airily  : 

"  So,  you  are  his  latest  darling?  Mon  Dieu!  but 
my  lord  has  excellent  taste.  And  how  long,  my 
pretty  one,  have  you  been  in  favor  ?  " 

"Pray  explain  yourself,  madam,"  says  'Chita, 
still  standing,  her  face  filled  with  indignant  surprise, 
"  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  visit." 

"  Chut!  don't  pretend  ignorance  !'' 

"And  would  prefer"  she  continues  calmly,  "your 
calling  when  my  guardian  is  at  home." 

"Your  guardian?  ha!  ha!  No  doubt,  he  would 
be  delighted  to  see  me,"  she  speaks  with  a  strong 
accent,  and  is  decidedly  French.  "  Come  now,  did 
you  never  hear  him  of  me  speak  ?  Is  it  so  ?" 

"I  can  not  tell,  as  you  have  not  given  your 
name." 

"My  name?  Ah,  yes,  quite  thoughtless,  to  be 
sure.  Is  it  possible,  my  sweet  innocent,  that  you 
have  never  heard  your  guardian  (?)  speak  of  his 
dearly  loved  wife — better  known,  perhaps,  as 
Blanchette ?" 

"  No  madame,  he  has  never  mentioned  the  name, 
though  I  have  often  seen  it  in  press,"  replies  our 
heroine  coldly. 

"I  see,"  rousing  herself  from  the  lazy  attitude 
she  at  first  assumed,  "  you  insolent  creature !  you 
think  me  not  his  wife  ?  Ask  him,  my  lovely  one, 
when  next  you  meet,  and  watch  haw  the  dear  fel- 
low swallows  the  little  pill.  Ha !  ha !  what  pleasure 
would  Blanchette  take  in  seeing  it  choke  him !" 

"  Madame,  I  know  nothing  of  your  affairs,  and 
wish  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  them,  in  short,  feel 
no  interest  on  the  subject.  Shall  I  ring  for  a  ser- 
vant to  attend  von  out  ?" 


46  CONCHITA. 

"  Chut !  you  feel  no  interest  ?  you  show  me  the 
door  ?  You  pretend  to  care  not  for  him  that  was 
my  husband  ?  Mon  Dieu !  you  cannot  deceive  me  ! 
Revenge  it  was  that  brought  me  here  !  Did  I  not 
the  tenter  glances  see,  that  last  night  between  you 
passed?  Little  thought  he  Blanchette's  eyes  wero 
on  him.  And  you,  sweet  innocent,  would  pretend 
you  love  him  not  ?  Chut !  Blanchette  is  no  fool ! 
But  I  know  by  the  light  of  his  eyes,  you  he  adores  I 
What  care  I  if  he  suffer?  did  he  not  me  scorn?" 

"Really,  Madame,  this  is  quite  unnecessary.  If 
sufficiently  interested,  I  could  easily  procure  infor- 
mation from  my  guardian." 

"  Ah  !  ha !  ha !  you  would  act  the  piece  of  white 
marble  ?  will  you,  my  sweet  ?  I  tell  you  I  am  his 
wife  !  Him  you  shall  never  marry  !  Never!  Never!" 

"Madame,  you  force  me  to  ring,"  says  'Chita, 
pulling  desperately  at  the  bell  rope. 

"  See  this  lady  to  the  street  door,"  she  says  to  the 
servant  who  answers  her  ring. 

"This,  he  will  know,"  says  the  woman,  tossing  a 
photo  on  the  table. 

"Adieu,  sweet  one,  we'll  meet  again  some  day." 

Poor  Conchita  is  much  disturbed  by  this  visit. 
Up  and  down  her  rooin  she  walks,  vainly  trying  to 
compose  her  thoughts. 

"Why,"  she  asks,  "should  I  become  so  agitated 
by  this  news  ?  Why  should  I  care  that  my  guardian 
is  married — and  to  such  a  woman  ?  And  that  horri- 
ble suspicion,  could  it  be  true — that  he  loved  me  ? 
Or  rather,  can  it  be  true  that  he  ever  loved  her  ? 
Shall  I  tell  him  of  the  visit,  or  try  to  forget 
Blanchette's  existence  ?  Yes,  I  had  better  tell  him 
for  of  course  he  can  explain  everything." 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  47 

With  this  comforting  thought  she  begins  once 
more  her  old  occupation ;  but,  try  as  she  would,  she 
could  not  rid  herself  of  the  fancy  that  the  woman's 
story  was  true.  But  why  did  she  care?  That 
thought  worried  her  more  than  anyother. 

"  Well,  Conchita,"  said  her  guardian,  as  he  leans 
back  in  his  luxurious,  easy  chair,  "how  have  you 
spent  the  day?  Getting  into  mischief?" 

"I've  not  enjoyed  it  very  much,  but  don't  let  us 
talk  of  troubles  till  you  have  rested." 

"We  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  answers 
decidedly.  "Draw  your  chair  nearer,  so  that  I  can 
see  your  face ;  there,  that  is  better.  Now,  tell  me 
what  has  worried  you  ?" 

"Well,"  reluctantly,  "if  you  will  have  it,  a 
woman  came  here  this  morning  asking  for  you; 
and,  finding  you  absent,  insisted  on  seeing  me. 
She  called  herself  Blanchette,  and  claimed  to  be 
your  wife.  After  trying  every  means  to  get  rid  of 
her,  I  had  finally  to  order  a  servant  to  show  her 
out.  Now,  can  you  explain  ?  Do  you  know  her — 
but  here  is  her  photograph.  She  insisted  that  you 
would  recognize  it." 

Mr.  Greyson  could  scarcely  control  his  passion, 
he  was  perfectly  white  with  rage. 

"Yes,'1  he  replied,  glancing  at  the  picture,  "I 
know  her  only  too  well.  Would  to  God  I  had  never 
seen  her  face.  Conchita,  that  woman  has  been  my 
curse.  Ten  years  ago,  I  was  fool  enough  to  marry 
her;  but  found,  after  a  few  weeks'  happiness,  how 
utterly  unworthy  she  was  of  any  good  man's  love. 
1  came  home  one  day,  to  find  that  she  had  forfeited 
the  very  name  of  wife;  and,  since  that  hour,  have 
never  seen  her." 


48  CONCAITA. 

"  My  poor,  dear  guardian,  you  have  suffered ! 
How  I  hate  myself  for  telling  you  of  that  horrible 
visit,"  exclaimed  'Chita,  her  eyes  and  voice  full  of 
sympathy. 

"  That,  undoubtedly,  was  her  object  in  asking  for 
you — she  felt  sure  you  would  tell  me  everything. 
But,  how  did  she  know  we  were  here  ?" 

"  She  saw  us  last  night  at  the  theatre ;  and,  I 
suppose,  had  us  followed." 

"  You  cannot  know  how  I  regret  your  being  so 
annoyed  by  my  private  affairs.  But,  perhaps,  'tis 
better  you  should  know  how  unfortunate  a  man 
your  guardian  is — 'twill  make  you  forget,  when  he. 
is  cross  and  cranky.  Will  it  not  dear  child  ?" 

"You  are  never  cross  to  me,"  she  says  gently, 
"  and  I  shall  love  you  all  the  more,  since  I  know  of 
the  heavy  burden  you  bear  so  nobly.  Excuse  me, 
please,  I  have  a  bad  headache,  so  will  retire.  Good- 
night." 

She  withdraws,  leaving  him  to  his  own  unhappy 
thoughts. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


A  WEEK  later  Conchita  arrived  safely  at  her 
Aunt's  summer  home.  It  is  a  large,  roomy, 
white  adobe  building,  charmingly  situated  in  the 
Valley  of  Tenochtitlan,  not  far  from  the  City  of 
Mexico. 

The  good  Senora,  though  completely  surprised, 
was  quite  overcome  by  joy;  for  Conchita  had  not 
written  of  her  intended  visit. 

"Why  Auntie,"  she  exclaims,  after  being  almost 
smothered  in  kisses,  "  where  is  Alfonso  ?  Still  in 
the  city  ?  "  . 

"  Yes,  my  child,  I  have  had  but  little  of  his  com- 
pany lately.  Poor  boy !  How  he  will  grieve  at  not 
being  first  to  greet  you." 

"  That  would  certainly  be  very  foolish !"  she 
laughs.  "What -keeps  him  so  long  ?  Not  the  gay 
court,  I  hope." 

"  Certainly  not,"  returns  his  mother  proudly. 
"Military  duty,  alone,  detains  him;  his  General 
never  grants  him  a  long  absence.  Besides,  Alfonso 
is  so  devoted  to  His  Majesty  that  he  keeps  a  con- 
stant watch  for  anything  even  approaching  trea- 
son." 

"I  know,"  returns  'Chita,  "that  treachery  is 
feared  ;  for  the  Emperor  has  many  enemies.  You 


50  CONCHITA. 

have  heard  that  France  will  withdraw  her  troops  ?" 

"Yes,  but  could  scarcely  believe  it,"  sighs  the 
Senora. 

"  My  guardian  thinks  it  madness  for  Maximilian 
to  remain  if  deserted  by  France." 

"But  our  holy  Mother,  the  Church,  supports  him; 
she  has  not  only  given  her  brave  sons,  Miramon 
and  Mejia,  but  offered  large  loans  of  money.  But 
the  poor  Empress — how  my  heart  aches  for  her  !  she 
is  almost  distracted  with  anxiety  for  her  husband." 

"Is  she  still  with  His  Majesty?  " 

"Oh,  no!  she  is  in  Europe,  imploring  aid  for  her 
husband.  Think  of  that  beautiful  young  creature 
a  born  princess,  being  driven  to  such  extremity  !" 

The  Senora,  like  most  of  her  nation,  is  much 
given  to  gestures;  her  manner  is  so  highly  dra- 
matic, that  one  entirely  ignorant  of  Spanish,  could 
easily  understand  the  drift  of  her  remarks. 

In  the  midst  of  a  long  description  of  Maximilian's 
mild,  enlightened  policy,  Carlotta's  beauty  and 
goodness,  the  trying  political  condition  of  their  fair 
country,  they  are  disturbed  by  loud  cries  of  "  Hur- 
rah for  the  Emperor !  Down  with  Juarez  !  Away 
with  him !" 

'Chita  soon  found  these  sounds  of  approval  and 
disapproval  came  only  from  a  highly  patriotic  par- 
rot, perched  on  the  flower  stand. 

"Why,  Auntie,"  she  asks,  much  amused,  "have 
you  even  talked  politics  to  this  poor  creature  ?" 

"Oh,  no!"  she  answered,  that's  'Fonso's  pet, 
named  for  you,  and  he  delights  in  making  her 
patriotic.  What  became  of  your  Poll  ?  Surely  you 
bad  not  the  heart  to  leave  her." 

"  No.  The  poor  girl  died  only  a  few  months  after 
we  left  you.  I  suppose  the  confinement  was  too 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  51 

great — then  the  poor  thing  missed  our  bright, 
sunny  climate  and  open  air  life  more,  even,  than 
myself." 

The  end  of  the  week  brought  Alfonso,  on  a  brief 
visit. 

His  mother  had  dispatched  a  messenger  with 
news  of  Conchita's  arrival,  but  he  was  unable,  till 
now,  to  obtain  leave. 

Our  heroine  certainly  looked  lovely  as  she  sat  in 
the  open  court,  busily  engaged  in  drawing  the 
threads  for  her-  Spanish  lace-work.  Her  full  white 
dress,  and  dainty  laces,  become  her  greatly.  So 
thinks  her  cousin,  as  he  unseen,  watches  her  nim- 
ble lingers. 

"So  you  have  answered  our  prayers  at  last!"  he 
exclaims,  taking  both  hands,  and  kissing  each 
glowing  cheek. 

'•At  last/' she  answers.  "But  stand  up  again, 
'Fonso,"  as  he  sits  beside  her,  "I  haven't  admired 
you  or  your  uniform  sufficiently." 

"  I  hope,"  he  says,  as  he  strokes  his  moustache, 
"  you  feel  proud  of  your  handsome  cousin  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  do — or,  rather,  I  will,  if  he  is 
really  as  nice  as  he  looks  !"  she  returns  merrily. 

The  Senora  was,  of  course,  glad  to  see  her  son, 
and  delighted  that  the  cousins  enjoyed  themselves 
together. 

"Surely,"  she  says,  with  a  wise  shake  of  her 
head,  "they  will  love  and  marry.  What  a  hand- 
some couple  they  would  make,  walking  up  the  aisle 
of  our  grand  Cathedral !  he  in  his  uniform,  she  in 
spotless  satin  and  orange  blossoms  !  Ah,  me  !  how 
it  brings  back  my  own  young  days,  when  his  dear 
father  sang  sweet  love  songs  under  my  window." 
And  the  good  lady  sighed  over  the  past  romance  of 


52  CONCHITA. 

her  delightful,  though  to  us,  peculiar  Mexican 
courtship.  The  tender  glances,  watchful  jealousy, 
stolen  interviews,  when  the  household  enjoyed  the 
universal ~siesta;  passionate  love  letters,  let  down, 
and  drawn  up  through  her  window;  emblematic 
flowers,  sent  in  the  same  way  ;  and  those  exquisite 
love  songs  which  spoke  to  the  very  soul ! 

This,  of  course  preceded  the  regular  engagement, 
which  meant  set  visits  in  the  Sola,  where  the  lovers 
are  never  left  alone,  but  are  constantly  attended  by 
a  watchful  duenna. 

Conchita  treated  Alfonso  with  frank,  cousinly 
affection,  but  told  him  plainly,  when  he  urged  a 
closer  relation,  that  she  thought  it  impossible  to  re- 
turn his  passion. 

"  Love  me  just  a  little,  'Chita  darling !"  he  pleads. 
"  I  am  sure  you  cared  for  me  before  you  left  us. 
What  has  changed  you?" 

"  Now  Fonso,"  she  begs,  "  be  a  good  boy,  and  for- 
get all  this.  Seriously,  I  cannot  love  you  in  that 
way." 

"  Forget  ?  When  I've  loved  you  all  your  life  ? 
'Chita,  you  must  love  me — did  you  not  promise,  long 
ago,  to  be  my  little  wife  ?  " 

"Ah,  I  was  then  only  a  tiny  child  !  Would  you 
marry  me,  knowing  I  could  not  love  ?" 

"  A  hungry  man  takes  even  crumbs  when  denied 
the  loaf  !"  he  answers  passionately. 

•'Cousin,"  she  says,  gravely,  "you  place  me  in  a 
most  unpleasant  position.  Why  persist  in  this  mat- 
ter ?  You  will  only  drive  me  back  to  the  United 
States." 

"Conchita  you  are  cruel,"  he  cries  desperately. 
"You  know  I  adore  you!  How  miserable  I  am 
away  from  you !" 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  53 

"Come,  "she  says,  "let  us  make  a  compact.  1 
will  treat  you  with  sisterly  affection  provided  you 
never  allude  to  this  subject ;  otherwise,  you  can  ex- 
pect only  coldness.  Should  my  feelings  change, 
no  false  modesty  shall  prevent  my  telling.  Now 
are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"  I  suppose  I  must  be,  for  your  conditions  are  fair 
and  open,"  his  tone  is  resigned,  but  he  thinks 
"  While  there's  life,  there's  hope." 

Alfonso,  before  leaving,  persuades  his  mother  to 
come  for  a  while  to  the  city.  She,  thinking  the 
idea  would  further  her  matrimonial  plans,  readily 
consented. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 


THE  City  of  Mexico  presents,  to  Conchita,'  a 
charming  spectacle,  as  she  stands,  viewing  it 
from  the  house-top. 

They  arrived  only  a  half  hour  ago,  and  she,  insist- 
ing she  is  not  at  all  tired,  begs  Fonso  to  take  her 
around  the  city. 

Her  aunt,  in  a  shocked  tone,  reminds  her  that  it  is 
scandalous  for  young  people  to  be  seen  abroad  un- 
attended by  an  elderly  married  woman,  so,  with  a 
mental  reservation  on  Mexican  etiquette,  she  con- 
tents herself  with  the  house-top. 

Their  hotel  is  very  near  the  grand  square,  towards 
which  the  principal  streets  converge,  and  on  which 
are  situated  the  famous  old  cathedral,  palace  of  the 
Cortez,  and  other  important  buildings. 

Surrounded  on  all  sides  by  lofty  mountains,  with 
her  chain  of  blue  lakes  in  the  distance,  Mexico  oc- 
cupies the  same  ground  on  which,  formerly,  stood 
the  ancient  Aztec  city,  Tenochtitlan. 

"  How  grandly  beautiful !"  exclaims  Conchita, 
feasting  her  eyes  on  the  exquisite  panorama,  "  you 
say  this  is  the  Plaza  Mayor,  which  is  considered  one 
of  the  finest  in  America  ? 


A  MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  55 

"Yes,"  answers  her  cousin,  "and  right  over  there 
is  the  Cathedral,  built  on  the  site  of  the  ancient 
Teocalli.  We'll  go  there  to-morrow,  if  mother  can 
accompany  us,  and  see  the  famous  calendar  stone." 

"  What  is  that  long,  straight  road  over  there  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  the  Calzada,  which  leads  to  Chalco  ; 
it's  as  old  as  the  Spanish  conquest.  You  can  see  it 
is  built  on  an  embankment,  and  by  the  wayside,  is 
the  celebrated  shrine  of  our  Lady  of  Guadaloupe,  cut 
into  a  curiously  shaped  rock.  Those  scattering 
houses  are  the  Villa  de  Gaudaloupe,  the  resting 
place  of  many  pilgrims." 

"  I  need  not  ask  if  that  lofty  hill,  crowned  with 
its  magnificent  palace,  is  Chapultepec.  How  grandly 
it  towers  above  this  fertile  plain  !" 

"  Ah!"  he  cries,  "look  on  the  Boulevard  Emperiale, 
there  goes  His  Majesty's  coach  !" 

She  looks  and  beholds  one  of  the  finest  coaches 
in  the  world.  It  is  crimson  and  gold — every  avail- 
able place  being  covered  by  the  royal  coat  of  arms, 
wrought  in  gold.  Each  corner  is  finished  with  a 
golden  cherub,  and  the  vehicle  is  drawn  by  eight 
milk-white  horses. 

"  How  gorgeous  !"  she  exclaims. 

"Yes,"  he  continues,  "  'twas  presented  to  the  Em- 
press by  Napoleon.  The  interior  is  of  heavy  white 
silk,  with  fringes,  cords,  and  tassels  to  match.  Some 
days  they  drive  black  horses,  but  I  admire  the  white 
ones  more." 

"So  do  I — but  what  fine  building  is  that?" 

"  The  palace  of  Buena  Vista — Marshal  Bazine's 
residence." 

"Do  you  know,"  looking  into  the  plaza  below,  "  I 
find  the  people  much  more  interesting  than  architec- 
ture. Just  look  at  that  poor  woman,  carrying  three 


56  CONCHITA. 

babies  in  her  rebozo — and  what  solemn  little  faces 
they  have  !  Do  they  ever  laugh  or  cry,  I  wonder  ? 
That  group,  over  there,  dining  on  the  ground,  would 
furnish  a  rare  study  for  an  artist.  Observe  their 
careless,  easy  attitudes,  their  polite  consideration 
of  each  other,  though  we  know  they  are  as  hungry 
as  dogs." 

"Oh,"  he  returns,  carelessly,  "that  is  the  very 
lowest  type.  We  have  nothing  in  common." 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  answers,  "  it  is  also  the  pictur- 
esque type.  What  could  be  more  pathetic  than  that 
old  crone,  in  the  Archades,  selling  lottery  tickets  !. 
Did  you  hear  her  say  '  buy  one,  the  blessed  Virgin 
will  bring  you  the  money  ?'  " 

"Yes,"  he  says,  "that  is  just  what  keeps  them  so 
degradingly  poor.  They  have  no  homes — are  born, 
live  and  die  on  the  streets." 

"You  are  unjust!"  she  exclaims  scornfully. 
"How  can  you  expect  poor  wretches  like  them, 
with  no  education  or  refinement,  to  resist  tempta- 
tion, when  the  highest  in  the  land  uphold  the 
accursed  lottery  ?  I  tell  you,  'Fonso,  it  is  a  dark 
blot  on  our  fair  country,  and  she  will  never  prosper 
till  this  terrible  evil  is  removed." 

"Why,  Conchita,"  he  answers  in  surprise,  "lot- 
teries are  countenanced  by  both  church  and  State. 
They  do  no  harm  when  we  can  afford  the  risk." 

"  We  must  agree  to  differ,"  she  says,  unconvinced 
by  his  argument.  "But  just  look  at  that  beautiful 
girl  making  tortillas — I  have  quite  outgrown  my 
taste  for  them." 

"Yes,"  he  laughs,  "you  are  not  at  all  Mexican 
in  your  ways — don't  even  smoke  cigarettes." 

"You    remember,"   with    a    smile,   "how  Papa 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  57 

scolded  you  for  trying  to  teach  me  ?    I  see  even  the 
babies  smoke  here." 

"See!"  he  exlaims,  "There  goes  a  train  of  bur- 
rors  loaded  with  pulque.  You  remember  them?" 

"Yes,  so  many  used  to  pass  our  house.  Good 
patient  creatures  they  are,  to  carry  such  heavy 
loads — but,  really,  we  live  centuries  behind  the 
times." 

"You  don't  mean,"  in  much  amaze,  "that  you 
prefer  New  York  to  Mexico." 

"  In  many  respects,  yes.  There  we  have  so  much 
more  liberty.  I  must  confess,  that,  since  my  visit 
to  the  United  States  I  find  many  errors  in  our  own 
social  system.  There  I  might  go  any  where,  alone, 
or  attended  by  you  without  exciting  remark,  while 
here,  it  is  so  different 

There  a  woman  can  actually  make  a  respectable 
living,  here,  they  can  only  marry.  You  give  us 
absolutely  no  freedom  till  then." 

"Yes,"  he  acknowledges,  "it  is  a  little  hard  on 
you  girls — but  that  is  because  we  wish  to  shield  you 
from  evil." 

Next  day,  accompanied  by  his  mother,  they  take 
a  pleasant  drive  around  the  city.  Going  first  to  the 
Cathedral,  built  on  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  temple, 
dedicated  to  the  god  Mixitli  they  find  the  Kellenda, 
a  large,  circular  stone,  beautifully  carved  with  hier- 
oglyphics, by  which  the  Aztecs  represented  the 
motion  of  the  earth  around  the  sun,  dividing  the 
year  about  as  we  do — or  rather,  making  the  solar 
year  equal  to  our  own. 

They  visit  the  Academy  of  fine  Arts,  and  among 
many  curious  and  historic  relics,  see  the  feather 
shield  of  Montezuma.  This  had  been  sent  by  Cortez 
to  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  and  by  him  pre- 


58  CONCHITA. 

sented  to  the  museum  at  Vienna,  where  it  remained 
till  Maximilian  restored  it  to  Mexico.  Idols  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes,  exquisite  pottery  and  the  famous 
sacrificial  stone  with  its  wonderful  carving,  attract- 
ed their  attention.  Conchita  could  not  believe  that 
the  latter  had  ever  been  intended  for  so  horrible  a 
purpose — for  the  sculptured  images  of  the  sun, 
moon,  and  groups  of  men  are  so  finely  wrought,  re- 
quiring such  patient,  delicate  skill,  that  'twould  be 
simple  folly  to  drench  them  with  the  blood  of 
victims. 

"That  rude  hole,"  she  says,  "marring  it's  top, 
was  certainly  cut  by  our  Spanish  ancestors  in  carry- 
ing out  some  of  their  own  unhallowed  schemes. 
Come,  let  us  look  for  the  picture  writings." 

The  manuscripts  were  mostly  of  maguey  plant,  the 
colors  bright  and  indelible. 

Few  of  these  remain,  for  the  early  Spaniards 
recklessly  destroyed  everything  they  deemed  of 
V~alue  to  the  conquered  Aztecs. 

'Chita  gazes  long  and  earnestly  at  the  celebrated 
fifty  foot  maguey  paper  which  contains  the  entire 
history  of  Mexico.  It  tells  how  the  Aztecs,  centu- 
ries ago,  left  an  island,  in  the  north  containing  a 
temple,  and  came  to  Mexico,  building  the  city.  All 
important  events  are  recorded.  The  advance  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  the  battle  of  Noche  Triste  are  faith- 
fully portrayed. 

"That  island  in  the  north,  "says  'Chita,  "cer- 
tainly points  to  the  Atlantis  theory." 

"No  use  to  theorize,"  says  'Fonso,  "Better  come 
into  the  courtyard  and  look  at  those  lovely  flowers. 
It's  hot  in  here." 

They  finish  the  day  with  an  evening  stroll  on  the 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  59 

Alemada  or  public  walk,  and  'Chita  is  delighted,  on 
their  return,  to  find  the  following  letter  : 

"  New  York,  Sept  5,  1866. 

MY  DEAREST  LITTLE  PET  : — If  both  Uncle  Earnest 
and  yourself  were  not  such  '  highly  proper '  people, 
I  should  certainly  think  you  had  run  away  for  good 
for  we  have  not  heard  a  single  word  from,  either  of 
you.  What's  the  matter? 

Things  go  on  about  as  usual,  except  that  I  have  a 
right  brand  new  adorer — the  oddest,  queerest  creat- 
ure you  ever  saw — but,  as  my  dear  mother  is  con- 
stantly informing  me,  'has  piles  of  money.'  My 
lady,  you  must  know,  has  set  her  heart  on  my  en- 
trapping the  poor  innocent,  and  entre  nous,  I  have 
set  my  head  against  it. 

Our  two  noblemen  deserted  us  ages  ago.  The 
Spaniard  rolled  his  black  eyes  in  the  most  enchant- 
ing manner  when  he  asked  your  address,  making 
numerous  polite  speeches,  in  such  broken  English, 
however,  that  I  couldn't  be  certain  whether  he  was 
complimenting  me  or  you. 

The  Duke,  I  fear,  was  disenchanted  by  my  reck- 
less use  of  slang;  for  he  has  departed  without 
'  screwing  his  courage '  to  the  interrogation  point ! 
Oh.,  that  I  had  cut  out  my  troublesome  tongue  and 
cast  it  from  me  !  for  alas  !  such  opportunities  come 
only  once  in  a  lifetime. 

But  'twas  ever  thus  from  childhood's  hour. 
Then,  he  was  so  handsome,  and  the  title — I  must 
confess  that  would  have  ''  fetched '  me  quicker  than 
anything  -else. 

Entre  nous,  my  love,  Harry  and  1  are  engaged  ; 
but  as  yet  it's  a  dead  secret.  Are  you  not  surprised? 
I  am,  but  find  it  quite  delightful 

Mamma  suspects  nothing,  for  we  are  very  formal 
before  her  and  all  gossiping  friends. 

She,  you  know,  wants  me  to  marry  hard  cash,  so, 
of  course,  would  object  seriously  to  Harry,  who, 
you  know,  is  by  no  means  a  millionaire. 

I  shall  say  nothing  to  her  ladyship  till  we  talk 
Uncle  Earnest  over,  then  he'll  do  the  fighting,  not  T. 


60  CONCHITA. 

Now,  dear  child,  don't  fall  in  love  with  your 
handsome  cousin  and  desert  us  entirely. 

Think  how  miserable  I  should  be  without  you, 
to  say  nothing  of  my  sweet,  sweet  parent's  sorrow 
at  having  only  one  girl  to  scold. 

With  a  kiss  for  your  dear,  good  Aunt,  and  a  hun- 
dred for  yourself,  I  am,  as  ever,  VIVA." 

Conchita,  of  course,  had  long  since  seen  the  love 
between  her  two  young  friends  ;  and  now  contem- 
plated with  wicked  pleasure,  the  prospect  of  a  do- 
mestic storm.  For  she  knew  one  would  follow  Mrs. 
Paulding's  discovery  of  the  engagement. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


says  the  Senora  one  morning, 
(i  His  Majesty  receives  this  evening,  and  we 
are  expected  to  pay  our  respects.  Have  you  a  suita- 
ble costume  ?" 

"Well,  really,"  returns  'Chita,  "I  don't  know 
what  would  constitute  a  '  suitable  costume/  so  sup- 
pose you  look  over  my  things  ?  I  may  have  some- 
thing that  will  do." 

After  a  lengthy  examination,  her  aunt  decides 
on  a  pink  silk,  elaborately  trimmed  in  black  lace,  a 
velvet  bodice  and  black  lace  mantilla — the  very  cos- 
tume in  which  'Chita  had  once  personated  "  a  Span- 
ish lady." 

And  now,  as  they  sit  in  their  carriage,  en  route  for 
the  palace,  I  will  give  the  reader  a  bit  of  history. 

Maximilian,  Archduke  of  Austria,  on  establish- 
ing the  Empire  in  Mexico,  sought,  by  every  means 
in  his  power  to  render  this  already  beautiful  valley 
more  attractive. 

The  city  had,  unfortunately,  been  rebuilt  on  the 
ancient  Aztec  site,  the  lowest  and  most  unhealthy 
in  the  whole  surrounding  country. 

Concluding,  wisely,  to  draw  the  town  to  a  better 


62  CONCHITA. 

locality,  he  selected  Cliapultepec  as  his  royal  abode, 
and  built  many  lovely  drives,  all  leading  to  the 
palace. 

The  handsomest  of  these,  also  the  most  direct 
from  the  city,  is  the  Boulevard  Emperiale,  three 
thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  by  one 
hundred  and  seventy  wide.  The  east  side  is  planted 
with  two  rows  of  trees,  one  edging  the  drive,  the 
other,  the  walk,  which  is  far  wider  than  some 
streets 

It  is  also  contains  six  circular  plots,  which,  the 
Emperor  intends,  shall  contain  statues. 

On  each  side  of  this  beautiful  paseo,  are  grand 
old  moss-covered  acqueducts ;  one  leading  to  the 
castle,  the  other  going  higher  up  the  mountain. 

This  noble  avenue,  terminates  with  the  castle, 
which  completely  covers  the  rocky  "Hill  of  the 
Grass-hopper." 

Now  they  pass  the  iron  gate,  guarded  by  its 
many  sentinels,  and  drive  through  those  grand, 
moss-draped  cypresses,  that  centuries  ago  sheltered 
the  peaceful  Montezuma.  Here,  the  sun  never  pene- 
trates ;  and  the  mystic,  shadowy  twilight  is  won- 
drously  productive  of  weird,  fantastic  musings  con- 
cerning the  countless  generation,  who,  ages  ago, 
roamed  here  at  will. 

A  silver  lake,  bordered  with  lilies  of  the  Nile,  nes- 
.tles,  like  a  mirror  in  the  green  sward. 

Playing  fountains  and  brilliant  tropical  flowers 
add  beauty  to  the  scene,  while  birds  of  rare  plumage 
flit  here  and  there,  mingling  their  songs  with  the 
melodies  of  falling  water. 

Our  heroine  feels  no  embarrassment  as  they  enter 
the  brilliantly  lighted  apartment,  and  advanced  to 
greet  the  Emperor. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  63 

Maximilian,  who  is  famed  throughout  Europe  for 
his  handsome  person,  scholarly  attainments  and 
courtesy  of  manner,  receives  them  with  marked 
graciousness. 

He  is  especially  kind  to  Conchita,  and,  knowing 
she  is  just  from  the  States,  turns  to  the  distinguished 
looking  lady  on  his  right,  and  says  : 

"Princess,  this  young  lady,  I  know,  would  enjoy 
talking  America  with  you." 

Acting  on  this  hint,  Princess  Josef  a  de  Yturbide, 
talks  in  her  most  charming  manner  to  the  young 
stranger. 

This  remarkable  woman  was  the  only  daughter  of 
the  Emperor  Yturbide.  After  her  father's  execu- 
tion, the  family  moved  to  Philadelphia,  and  the 
princess  was  educated  at  Georgetown's  convent. 

Maximilian  restored  the  titles  to  the  family,  and 
on  adopting  Augustine  Yturbide,  grandson  of  the 
late  Emperor,  appointed  Princess  Josefa  guardian  to 
the  young  "Prince  Imperial." 

She  stands  high  at  court,  for,  the  Emperor,  find- 
ing her  possessed  of  wonderful  executive  abilities, 
consults  her  on  all  important  occasions. 

The  Princess  introduces  her  to  Princess  Salm-salm, 
an  American  lady,  whose  husband  is  Prussian,  and 
they  are  discussing  American  towns,  manners,  poli- 
tics, etc.,  when  Alfonso,  joining  the  circle,  begs  to 
show  'Chita  the  famous  garden  of  Chapultepec. 

They  mount  a  magnificent  stairway  of  imported 
Italian  marble,  and  soon  reach  the  house-top. 

Here  they  find  the  beautiful  garden  filled  with 
handsome  trees,  rare  plants  and  shrubs,  sprinkled 
by  clear,  sparkling  fountains.  Here  and  there,  is  a 
graceful  marble  statue,  or  a  magnificent  aquarium 
filled  with  gold  and  silver  fish. 


64  CONCHITA. 

A  bright,  tropical  moon  sheds  her  lustre  o'er  this 
fairy  scene  at  which  Conchita  gazes  like  one  en- 
tranced. 

Slowly  she  turns  her  eyes  from  the  scene  before 
her,  to  the  soft  green  meadow,  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  below,  the  stately  avenues  of  trees,  the  faint, 
blue  rim  of  distant  mountains,  then  nearer  still  to 
grand  old  Popocatapetl,  and  beautiful  Ixtaccihnatl, 
those  silent  sentinels,  who,  from  all  time  have 
guarded  this  fertile  valley — and  joined  in  the  hymn 
of  praise  all  nature  seemed  singing  to  the  great  All 
Father. 

But  Senora  Castro  does  not  permit  her  niece  to 
remain  here  long,  for  many  friends  are  asking  to 
be  presented  to  the  lovely  girl,  so  honored  by  the 
Emperor. 

Conchita,  in  the  midst  of  a.gay  circle,  suddenly 
feels  that  she  is  being  stared  out  of  countenance. 
Looking  around  to  resent  this  rudeness,  (Mexican 
senors  are  proverbial  starers),  she  encounters  the 
adoring  eyes  of  Don  Gonzalez. 

"  Ah,"  she  says  extending  her  hand,  "  this  is  an 
unexpected  pleasure," 

Many,  many  thanks  adorable  senorita,  for  your 
kind  reception.  1  dared  not  hope  for  one  poor 
word,  when  I  saw  you  so  completely  surrounded. 
Ah,  my  heart !  how  it  did  leap  when  I  beheld  you. 
The  very  dress  you  wear,  recalls  that  most  entranc- 
ing waltz  you  once  gave  me.  Oh,  to  hold  you 
again  in  these  arms,  and  float  through  its  dreaming 
mazes  once  more  !  " 

"My  friend,"  she  says,  "be  careful.  I  like  not 
such  extravagance." 

"I  will  be  good,"  he  answers,  "circumspect.  May 
I  see  you  to-morrow  ?  " 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  65 

"  Certainly  you  may.  My  aunt,  I  know,  will  be 
pleased  to  receive  any  of  my  friends.  That  is  she 
talking  to  Princess  Josef  a." 

Senora  Castro  receives  the  Spaniard  with  much 
courtesy,  giving  the  desired  permission  to  call. 

Alfonso,  under  the  circumstances,  behaves  beau- 
tifully. 

His  jealous  temperament  was  fully  aroused,  on 
seeing  Conchita,  his  personal  property,  attracting 
such  attention;  yet,  he  mused,  with  a  feeling  of 
pride,  "  this  beautiful  creature  will  one  day  be 
mine." 

But  suppose  she  should  fancy  some  one  else  ? 
Had  she  not  smiled  enchaiitingly  upon  the  Span- 
iard ?  Who  was  this  Don  Gonzalez,  anyhow,  where 
had  they  met,  how  long  known  each  other  ?  Were 
they  intimate,  did  she  love  him  ?  The  Don,  of 
course  made  no  secret  of  his  feelings,  but  what  of 
hers  ?  She  was  changed,  of  late,  was  this  the 
cause  ?  These,  and  many  other  wild  fancies  racked 
his  brain,  but  outwardly  he  was  calm,  polished, 
courteous. 

But  all  things  have  an  end,  and  he  is  not  sorry 
when  the  evening  is  over ;  for  it  has  been,  to  him, 
more  pain  than  pleasure. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


,"  asked  Alfonso,  "shall  we  visit 
the  floating  gardens  this  morning  ?  " 

"Not  this  morning,"  she  answers,  "I  am  expect- 
ing Don  Gonzalez." 

"  Then,"  he  says,  inwardly  cursing  the  Spaniard, 
"suppose  we  consider  the  engagement  made  for 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted  if  it  suits  auntie.  Adios 
till  we  meet  again. 

As  they  kiss  each  other  on  either  cheek,  true 
Mexican  fashion,  the  Don  is  ushered  into  the  sala. 
The  gentlemen  bow  stiffly,  'Fonso  immediately 
withdrawing. 

"  Beautifully  Senorita,"  says  the  Don,  passion- 
ately kissing  the  hand  she  gives  him,"  without  you 
I  can  not  live  !  Be  my  wife,  sweet  senorita  !  Only 
come  to  me,  and  I  will  be  your  slave  !  " 

"  Senor,  "  she  returns,  withdrawing  her  hand, 
"  this  is  quite  unexpected." 

•'  I  will  wait,  my  angel !  Give  me  but  one  ray  of 
hope  ! " 

"But,  we  are  almost  strangers — how  do  you 
know  you  really  love  me  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  he  cries  passionately,  "  Does 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  67 

not  my  heart  beat  for  you  alone  ?  I  dream  of  you 
by  night,  I  think  of  you  all  day.  You  are  with  me 
always,  every  hour,  every  minute.  No,  senorita,  I 
(  an  not  mistake.  Should  your  blast  my  hopes  for- 
ever, I  must  love  you  while  life  is  mine  !  " 

"Dear  friend,  "she  answers  gently,  "you  cannot 
know  how  sorry  I  am — but,  I  cannot  consent.  I 
should  be  happy,  indeed,  to  return  your  love — but 
cannot." 

"  The  senorita,  is  already  betrothed  to  her  hand- 
some cousin  ?  "  he  asks  suspiciously. 

"No,  I  love  him  as  a  brother — nothing  nearer." 

"Then  I  may  hope?  I  may  try  to  win  your 
love  ?  " 

"No,  understand  me,  please.  I  shall  probably 
never  marry.  It  is  kinder  to  tell  you  this  at  once. 
Now,  will  you  forget  all  this,  and  be  my  good  friend 
once  more  ?  " 

"Oh  yes,"  with  an  effort,  "we  shall  be  friends — 
and  you  will  be  kind,  you  will  receive  me  ?  Your 
presence  is  my  life  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  are  always  welcome.     What,  going  ?  " 

Adios  Senorita,  I  shall  repay  your  goodness. 
Never  shall  my  consuming  passion  annoy  you ! 
Locked  up  in  my  heart,  shall  I  keep  it !  "  reverently 
kissing  her  hand,  he  leaves  the  house,  nobly  strug- 
gling against  his  unfortunate  love. 

And  Conchita  ?  she  is  really  pained  at  this  pro- 
posal. Why,  could  she  not  love  him  ? 

He  is  handsome,  noble,  rich,  devoted, — what  more 
could  woman  ask  ?  Why,  did  not  her  heart  go  out 
to  him?  She  can't  understand.  *• 

Two  weeks  later,  Mr.  Greyson  arrives,  to  escort 
his  ward  home,  but  oho  begs  to  remain  with 
"  Auntie." 


68  CONCHITA. 

"  You  are  certainly  old  enough  to  know  your  own 
mind,  "he  says."  Of  course,  you  understand  my 
wishes,  but  do  just  as  you  please." 

"  Then,  my  dear  guardian,  with  your  permission, 
I  shall  remain  where  I  am." 

"Have  you  any  reason  for  this  decision,  or  is  it 
caprice  ?  "  he  asks  sternly. 

"  I  have  reasons,  but  prefer  keeping  them  to  my- 
self," coolly. 

"  Conchita,  be  frank  with  me.  Do  you  love  your 
cousin  ?" 

"  Dearly  !"  she  says,  seeing  how  she  can  gain  her 
point. 

"  But  child,  think  of  the  unsettled  condition  of 
Mexico — it  is  really  unsafe." 

"  Shall  I  desert  my  loved  ones  ?" 

"  You  can  return  later,  when  this  trouble  is 
settled." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  even  Juarez  and  his  republicans 
won't  murder  Auntie  and  me.  Really,  Mr.  Greyson, 
I  should  be  miserable  in  New  York." 

"Well  child/'  with  a  sigh,  "you  must  be  happy 
at  all  costs.  Have  you  any  letters  for  Viva  or  my 
sister?  I  shall  leave  to-morrow." 

"  I  must  certainly  write  to  Viva.  Would  you  like 
to  see  her  last  letter  ?" 

"  No ;  I  received  one  just  before  leaving  New 
Orleans,  which  told  me  the  latest  social  gossip,.  By 
the  way,  I  see  our  summer  acquaintance,  Don  Gon- 
zalez is  here.  Is  he,  too,  seeking  your  smiles  ?  " 

She  frankly  tells  him  of  the  Spaniard's  court- 
ship, v 

"  Why  refuse  him  so  decidedly  ?"  asks  her  guar- 
dian, "  could  you  not  give  the  poor  fellow  a  little 
hope  ?  Consider,  he  is  rich,  handsome,  noble ;  you 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  69 

would  have  the  entree  to  the  very  best  European 
society.  Do  you  love  your  cousin  well  enough  to 
forfeit  all  of  these  things  ?" 

"  I  tell  you,  as  I  did  the  Don — I  shall,  probably, 
never  marry." 

"  What !"  in  a  relieved  tone,  "you  forget  Alfonso. 
*  Oh  constancy,  thy  name  is  not  woman  !'*' 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Come,"  he  says  gravely,  "look  me  straight  in 
the  eye,  and  tell  me  your  real  reason.  It  is  not 
Alfonso  ?" 

"  You  are  not  my  Confessor,  and  have  no  right  to 
my  inmost. thoughts,"  she  answers  indignantly. 

"You  are  right,  I  have  not,  "then  abruptly,  "  Con- 
chita  could  you  marry  a  divorced  man  ?'' 

"No,"  she  answers  slowly,  though  positively,  "\ 
could  not.  Both  my  church  and  conscience  forbid 
it.  Though  I  loved  passionately,  wildly,  I  should 
never  marry  a  divorced  man  !" 

"You  are  right,"  he  says,  "though  'twould  be 
hard,  if  you  really  loved — one.  There,  run  on,  and 
write  your  letter." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


THE  political  affairs  of  Mexico  went  rapidly  from 
bad  to  worse. 

Maximilian,  now  completely  deserted  by  Louis 
Napoleon,  and,  knowing  the  storm  would  soon 
burst  upon  him,  thought  it  wiser  to  remove  to  the 
strongly  fortified  town  of  Queretaro,  about  a  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  City  of  Mexico. 

There  he  was  followed  by  many  adherents  who 
thought  themselves  safer  nearer  the  imperial  army. 

Senora  Castro,  accompanied  by  her  niece,  was 
among  the  first  to  remove  to  this  charmingly  situat- 
ed city ;  for  how  could  she  desert  her  dear  boy  ? 
And  he,  of  course,  must  remain  with  his  majesty. 

The  last  French  regiment  had  sailed,  but  Maximi- 
lian positively  declined  returning  to  Europe  although 
he  knew  almost  certain  death  awaited  him  in 
Mexico. 

Poor  Carlotta  had  accomplished  nothing  in  her  in- 
terview with  Napoleon ;  and,  when  the  Pope,  her 
last  hope,  failed  her,  she  became  insane. 

Peshaps,  therefore,  her  beloved  "  Max "  cared 
nothing  for  his  life,  and  really  longed  for  the  Mexi- 
can bullet  to  end  the  sorrowful  struggle. 

The  French  had  no  sooner  left,  than  the  patriotic 
Juarez,  feeling  sure'  of  11  le  countenance,  if  not  sup- 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  71 

port,  of  the  United  States,  determined  to  strike  a 
decisive  blow. 

An  army  under  Esbedo  besieged  Queretaro,  but 
the  Emperor  with  his  ten  thousand  held  out 
bravely. 

Alfonso,  though  only  a  Captain,  was  held  in  great 
esteem  by  his  superiors. 

Though  none  would  acknowledge  it,  their  situa- 
tion was  becoming  more  desperate  every  day. 

One  morning,  May  10th,  while  conversing  with 
Miramon,  Alfonso  remarks : 

"  I  am  much  afraid  of  treason,"  General." 
"Whom  do  you  suspect ?"  asked  his  general  in 
alarm. 

"  I  greatly  distrust  Lopez,"  returns  he. 
"  Nonsense,  my  dear  boy,"  returned  the  relieved 
officer,  "  why,  Lopez  is  working  just  as  ardently  as 
you  or  I.     You  are  certainly  mistaken." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  I  am ;  but  somehow,  I  cannot 
overcome  the  feeling." 

"Go,  my  dear  fellow,"  continues  his  general, 
"and  amuse  yourself  with  your  pretty  cousin.  I 
fear  too  much  work  and  anxiety  will  cause  you  to 
grow  suspicious  of  even  me." 

'•  Well,"  thinks  'Fonso,  "  I  have  done  my  duty  in 
warning  him." 

He  enters  his  mother's  Sala,  and  finds  that  lady 
and  Conchita  conversing  with  Don  Gonzalez. 

''Come  here,  'Fonso,"  said  his  cousin,  "and  let 
me  tell  you  of  my  letter.  I  received  it  in  the  strang- 
est way.  I  noticed  a  red  silk  handkerchief  oil  my 
balcony  this  morning,  and,  011  picking  it  up,  found 
this,"  holding  up  a  letter. 

"  And  it  is  from ?" 

"  My  guardian,"  she  interrupts.    "  He  writes  from 


CONCHITA. 

New  Orleans,  saying  he  can  arrange  with  our  ene- 
mies for  my  safe  conduct  from  Mexico,  and  begs 
that  I  will  join  him  immediately.  My  answer,  he 
says,  will  reach  him,  if  placed  just  where  I  find 
this." 

"  Ah  !"  exclaims  'Fonso,  "  that  looks  like  a  traitor 
in  camp.  But  you,  Coiichita,  what  will  you  do  ?" 

"  Stay  where  I  am,  thank  you." 

"  Senorita,"  urges  the  Don.  "I  implore  you5  accept 
your  guardian's  offer.  This  place  is  not  safe— it 
may  fall  any  day." 

"  Would  you  have  me  forsake  my  nearest  and 
dearest?"  she  asks,  with  flashing  eyes.  "No,  I 
shall  remain  with  them  to  the  bitter  end." 

"  God  bless  you  my  darling  child  !"  cries  her  aunt, 
embracing  her  warmly. 

"  I  cannot  express  my  thanks,  Conchita,"  says  her 
cousin,  gravely.  "  If  I  mistake  not,  mother  will 
need  you  sorely." 

"  Why  'Fonso,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  nothing,  so  don't  worry  over  my 
doubts,"  he  returns  gravely. 

Four  days  later  his  suspicion  proved  true — Lopez 
betrayed  his  Emperor. 

Maximilian,  and  his  brave  generals,  Miramon  and 
Mejia,  were  taken  prisoners  on  the  Cerro  de  las 
Campanas. 

Senora  Castro  and  her  niece  ascended  to  their 
housetop,  and  straining  their  eyes,  watched  for  the 
Emperor. 

Long  and  earnestly  they  prayed  for  his  success. 
Even  though  her  eyes  were  strained  to  the  utmost, 
and  every  nerve  in  her  body  seemed  alive,  the  Sen- 
ora dropped  her  beads. 

Presently,  Conchita  set-^  Juun,  her  cousin's  man- 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  73 

servant,  staggering  towards  them,  bearing  a  seem- 
ingly lifeless  body.  Divining  at  once  that  it  i-s 
Alfonso  in  this  unhappy  condition,  both  ladies  for- 
get battle-field,  Emperor,  Republicans,  fury  of  ene- 
mies, their  own  safety,  and  hasten  to  his  relief. 

They  bear  him  tenderly  to  his  own  room  and 
apply  restoratives  to  rouse  him  from  the  faint. 
They  look  for  wounds,  but  find  only  one,  near  the 
heart,  from  which  very  little  blood  flows. 

Senora  has  just  left  the  room  for  some  pet  remedy, 
when  the  poor  fellow  opens  his  eyes. 

"  'Chita — darling,"  he  says  faintly,  "  don't  try  to 
staunch  the  bleeding — it  is  internal.  I — must — go — 
soon..  Give  me — your  hand,  love — 'tis  sweet  to  die 
thus !" 

"  Oh  'Fonso  !  my  dear,  dear  brother,  don't  talk  of 
dying,"  she  cries  in  great  distress. 

"  Dear  one,"  he  whispers  more  faintly,  *'will — you 
kiss  me — once — just  once — darling — on  the  lips  ?" 

As  she  bends  her  head  and  gives  a  long,  tender 
kiss,  a  look  of  quiet  happiness  over-spreads  his  face. 

His  mother  enters  with  a  bottle,  but  waiving  it 
aside,  he  says  : 

"  Mother,  it  is  no  use — I  have  only — a  few — mo- 
ments— left.  Bid  me  good  bye." 

"  Holy  Mother  of  God,  save  my  boy  !"  cried  the 
poor  lady,  frantic  with  grief.  "  Alfonso,  my  dar- 
ling, do  not  leave  me  !"  but  he  only  smiled  peace- 
fully, and,  with  one  last,  tender  look  at  'Chita, 
closed  his  eyes  and — died. 

The  poor  mother's  grief  was  intense,  for  Alfonso 
was  her  all.  In  person  she  implored  the  haughty 
conqueror  to  permit  her  son  the  customary  funeral 
rites,  and  even  the  stern  enemy  could  not  refuse. 

After  the  funeral  they  leave  this  city  of  beautiful 


74  CONCHITA. 

fountains,  but  sad,  sweet  memories,  and  return  to 
the  City  of  Mexico.  Here  Senora  Castro  will  re- 
main till  she  gains  heart  to  form  some  definite  plan 
for  the  future. 

Conchita  determines  to  remain  with  her,  but  her 
plans  are  materially  changed  by  the  receipt  of  the 
following  letter: 

"NEW  YORK,  May  26,  1867. 
"DEAR  CONCHITA: 
"  Come  home  immediately. 

"Have  written  our  friend,  Don  Gonzalez,  to 
arrange  your  journey. 

"  Would  come  for  you  myself,  but  am  called  to 
Paris  on  business  of  importance. 
"  Let  nothing  hinder  your  return. 

Your  affectionate  guardian, 

E.  GREYSON." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"AH  my  dear  friend,"  says  Conchita,  as  the  Don 
1~\  bows  himself  into  the  room,  "  I  have  been 
longing  to  see  you  !" 

"  Senorita  is  too  good  !  You  need  me — I  can  be  of 
service  ?"  his  dark  eyes  beam  with  pleasure. 

"  Yes,"  she  returns,  "  you  received  a  letter  from 
my  guardian,  asking  you  to  arrange  for  my  return 
to  the  United  States  ?" 

"I  did,  sweet  lady,  and  come  now,  to  place  my 
poor  services  at  you  disposal." 

"  Thanks.  I  wish  to  return  as  quickly  as  possible. 
What  do  you  consider  the  safest  and  most  rapid 
conveyance  to  our  nearest  shipping  point  ?  " 

"  Private  conveyance.  I  shall  secure  a  pass  from 

General  E ,  which  will  ensure  our  safety.  The 

whole  country,  I  hear,  is  full  of  Juarests." 

"  I  do  not  fear  them,"  she  remarks,"  for  I  too,  am 
republican." 

"  Poor  Maximilian  ana  nis  generals  will  suffer,  I 
fear,  "  remarks  the  Don  gravely." 

"  I  fear  so,"  she  returns  sadly.  "  Though  repub- 
ican  in  sentiment,  I  greatly  admire  Maximilian's 
character.  He  is  a  grand  noble  man,  but  nothing 
will  save  him  from  the  concentrated  fury  of  my 
fiery  countrymen," 


76  CONCHITA. 

"  Yes,"  he  assents,  Mexico  has  endured  many 
wrongs,  but  she  will  probably  never  get  a  better 
government  than  the  enlightened  one  she  has  just 
overthrown. 

Look  at  the  improvements  His  Majesty  had  be- 
gun. It  is  a  great,  a  sad  mistake." 

"  Yes,"  she  says,  "  it  is  the  saddest  mistake  in  all 
history.  The  Emperor  is  not  at  fault, — he  was 
basely  betrayed — a  victim  to  French  fickleness. 
Napoleon's  ambition  and  cowardice  are  at  the 
bottom  of  Maximilian's  troubles.  Mexico,  for 
many  years  has  been  trying  to  throw  off  the  effects 
of  the  centuries  of  oppression,  bloodshed  and  cruelty 
she  has  endured.  Now  the  climax  is  reached,  and 
Maximilian  must  be  the  victim  !  " 

For  a  few  moments  they  are  lost  in  gloomy  reflec- 
tions ;  then,  the  Spanaird  says : 

"  I  will  call  later,  Senorita,  and  tell  you  of  our 
plans.  By  the  by,  what  does  your  aunt  say  to  giv- 
ing you  up  ?  " 

"She  thinks  it  best  for  me  to  obey  my  guardian." 

"  Doubtless  the  Senora  is  in  despair  at  her  great 
loss.  Adios  senorita,  I  kiss  your  feet." 

Conchita  begins  the  packing  for  she  knows,  if 
possible,  she  will  leave  the  next  day. 

"  Auntie,"  she  remarks,  as  that  lady  assists  in 
folding  sundry  garments,  "  I  wonder  why  he  wrote 
such  a  short  positive  note  ?  His  letters  are  usually 
so  kind  and  gentle.  Can  he  be  angry  that  I  staid 
with  you  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  some  business  troubles  annoyed  him," 
wisely  suggests  the  kind  lady. 

"  Well,"  determinedly,  "  I  shan't  worry — for  this 
is  the  last  day  we  shall  have  together  for  a  long, 
long  time." 


A   MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  7? 

"Yes,  dear  child,  it  may  be  our  very  last.  You 
will  marry  in  a  few  years — if  not  months,  then  I 
must  give  you  up  entirely. 

"Don't  distress  yourself  on  that  point — I  don't 
think  I  shall  ever  marry — at  any  rate,  not  for  years 
and  years  to  come." 

"  You  think  so  now,  because  you  have  never 
loved,"  says  her  aunt,  sighing  over  her  own  broken 
dream  of  'Fonso's  marriage. 

"  Ah,"  exclaims  'Chita  with  a  short,  quick  sob, 
"  I  have  not  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  "  continued  her  aunt,  "  but  when  it 
does  come,  you  will  speak  very  differently." 

That  afternoon,  Don  Gonzalez  informs  our  hero- 
ine that  he  had  completed  all  necessary  arrange- 
ments for  the  journey. 

"We  shall  be  ready,  then  to  leave  at  six,  to-mor- 
row morning  ?  "  he  asks. 

"  Why,"  in  surprise,"  are  you  going?" 
"  Certainly,  unless — you  forbid." 
"Forbid!    I  am  only  too  delighted"  she   says, 
much  pleased. 

"  You  are  more  than  kind,  sweet  lady  !  " 
"  Indeed,  the  goodness  is  all  your  own.  You  have 
no  idea  how  I  dreaded  that  long  lonely  trip." 

"  Ah,  dear  friend,  you  know  not  the  rapture  it 
gives  me  to  serve  you  in  any  way  !" 

"  Fear  not ! "  he  exclaims,  as  an  alarmed  look 
comes'into  her  face.  "  I  swear,  by  the  holy  cross, 
we  both  hold  sacred,  to  cherish  and  protect  you 
from  all  harm,  as  though  you  were  my  own  sister ! 
Can  you  not  trust  me  senorita  ?  " 

"  I  can,  dear  friend,  with  both  life  and  honor.  I 
have  implicit  confidence  in  your  true  nobility  of 
character." 


CONCHITA. 

Thanks !  A  thousand  thanks !  and  we  shall 
always  be  the  dearest,  warmest  friends  ?  " 

"Always,  Don.  Nothing  can  break  our  friend- 
ship." 

"  Then,  adios,  senorita.  I  will  be  punctual  to- 
morrow," and,  kissing  her  hand,  he  withdraws. 


After  many  stoppages,  and  other  inconveniences, 
they  arrive  in  New  York,  and  finally  alight  in 
front  of  Mr.  Greyson's  home. 

ee  Here  Conchita  is  received  by  the  porter,  who 
informs  her  that,  "  The  Mistress  said  you  might  go 
straight  to  your  own  room,  and  I  was  to  tell  her  the 
minute  you  arrived." 

"  Very  well,  Simpson,  Don  Gonzalez,  Mrs.  Pauld- 
ing  I  know,  would  like  to  return  thanks  for  your 
kindness  to  me.  Won't  you  come  in  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  senorita,  I  will  call  later." 

"Then  good  bye,  till  then." 

"  Adios  Senorita" 

'Chita  is  scarcely  in  her  room  before  Viva  rushes 
in  to  greet  her. 

"  Oh  you  dear,  darling  old  thing  !"  she  exclaims, 
between  numerous  hugs  and  extra  kisses,  "  you 
haven't  the  least  idea  how  dreadfully  anxious  we've 
all  been  !  I  was  so  afraid  you'd  be  mixed  up  in 
those  awful  troubles  and  get  murdered,  or  im- 
prisoned or  something." 

"Well,  my  dear/'  says  'Chita  coolly,  "you  see  I 
was  neither  murdered  nor '  somethinged.' ' 

" Oh,  you  provoking  piece!"  exclaims  Viva,  "Is 
this  the  way  you  repay  my  loving  anxiety  ?  Base 
ingrate  -'  to  ridicule  my  mode  of  speech !  Never 
mind,  Miss  Particularity,  I  shall  punish  you  severely 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  79 

—you  shall  hear  none  of  my  love  affair !  There 
now  !  Are  you  not  sorry  for  your  abominable  con- 
duct ?" 

"I  rather  think,  my  dear,"  laughs  'Chita,  "that 
the  punishment  would  fall  heavier  on  yourself — so 
pray,  don't  inflict  useless  suffering." 

"Oh,  'Chita,"  she  says,  forgetting  her  resolution, 
of  silence,  "  I've  got  such  quantities  to  tell  you ! 
You  remember,  I  wrote  you  of  my  engagement  ? 
Well,  Harry  worried  so,  that  I  let  him  tell  Uncle 
Earnest,  who  was  quite  kind,  and  promised  to  talk 
mama  over.  But  my  sweet  mother  opened  the 
vials  01  her .  wrath  upon  our  devoted  heads  and  I 
seriously  doubt  if  any  human  being  could  ever  rec- 
oncile her  to  the  match.  My  gracious !  It  was  a 
day  to  be  remembered  !  '  Angels  and  ministers  of 
grace  defend  us '  from  such  another !" 

"Does  she  still  oppose  it?" 

"Yes,  my  sweet,  but  we  shall  run  away,  some 
day." 

"  Why,  Viva,  you  would  not,  really  ?" 

"That  depends,  my  love — but,  the  enemy  ap- 
proacheth  !  '  Arm  ye  brave  !' ' 

Enter  Mrs.  Paulding  in  her  stateliest  manner. 

She  gives  Miss  Merle  a  cold,  unsympathetic  little 
kiss,  then  remarks  pleasantly,  "So,  you  are  back 
again,  but  I  wonder  that  you  were  not  punished  for 
your  obstinacy." 

"Many  thanks,  Mrs.  Paulding  for  your'  gracious 
reception.  Did  your  brother  leave  me  a  message  ?" 

"Earnest?  No,  why  should  he?  Poor  fellow! 
He  has  been  harassed  enough  by  your  stubborn  re- 
fusal to  leave  Mexico.  He  said  to  me,  just  before 
he  left,  and  I  give  you  his  exact  words,  '  Would  to 
God  I  had  never  seen  her  !'  " 


80  CONCHITA. 

Conchita's  black  eyes  flashed  angrily,  but  her 
voice  is  coolly  indifferent  as  she  remarks,  "  In  little 
more  than  a  year  he  will  be  relieved  of  me.  It  was 
kind  of  you  to  repeat  his  flattering  speech ;  and,  I 
appreciate  the  motive,  fully  as  much  as  the  re- 
mark." 

"1  see,"  retorts  the  elder  woman,  "that  Mexican 
society  has  improved  neither  your  temper  nor  your 
manners.  I  leave  you,  Miss  Merle,  till  you  learn  to 
conduct  yourself  more  properly." 

"Thank  the  Lord  that's  over!"  exclaims  Viva, 
as  the  door  closes  on  her  indignant  parent.  "  Don't 
you  think,  'Chita,  that  her  temper  sweetens  with 
age?" 

"But  Viva,"  says  'Chita,  deeply  wounded,  "how- 
could  your  Uncle  make  such  a  remark  ?  I  never 
thought  he  considered  me  a  torment !" 

"My  de"ar  girl,  you  know  my  angelic  mother's 
ways.  I  have  no  idea  he  ever  said  it — however, 
he'll  be  home  in  about  two  weeks,  so  you  can  ask 
him  all  about  it." 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not !  I  only  wish  I'd  stayed  with 
Auntie." 

"  No  my  child,  he  would  not  allow  it.  He  would 
have  gone  for  you  himself — and  you  would  have 
obeyed.  You  don't  know  how  determined  he  is. 
Honestly,  I  think  the  old  fellow  was  afraid  your 
handsome  cousin  would  steal  you  away  from  him. 
My  Uncle  is  selfish,  petite." 

"Don't  talk  so,  Viva.  Perhaps  you  have  not 
heard  of  poor  'Fonso's  death  ?" 

"  Oh,  'Chita,  I'm  so  sorry  !  We  heard  of  the  fall 
of  Queretaro,  the  capture  of  the  Emperor  and  his 
generals,  but  supposed  your  cousin  safe." 

"He  died  nobly,"  says  'Chita,  "a  soldier  on  duty. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  81 

I  am  glad  his  end  was  in  defense  of  the  Emperor  he 
loved  so  well — for  Mexican  court  martials  are  mere 
farces.  They  mean  certain  death.  To  be  shot 
down  like  a  dog  !" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  unfeeling,  but  forget  Mexico 
and  her  troubles,  and  lie  down — you  really  need  a 
nap.  Mama  and  I  are  going  shopping,  so  I  must 
don  my  street  dress.  Shall  I  send  you  something  to 
eat  ?  Louise,  I  know,  will  be  charmed  to  bring  it." 

"  A  cup  of  chocolate,  please,  in  about  an  hour. 
When  will  you  return?" 

"Can't  say,  may  lunch  down  town.  Don't  get 
lonesome." 

"I'll  amuse  myself  unpacking.    Good-bye." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


LEFT  to  herself,  Conchita  slept  till  Louise 
entered  with  her  chocolate.  Then,  refreshing 
herself  with  a  bath  and  fresh  clothing,  she  goes  to 
the  library. 

Here  everything  reminds  her  forcibly  of  her 
guardian. 

His  arm  chair,  foot-stool,  the  basket  of  torn  let- 
ters, an  open  book,  turned  face  downward,  all 
brought  happy  memories  of  those  dear,  quiet  hours 
spent  in  study.  Would  they  ever  return  she  won- 
dered ?  Or  did  lie  really  regret  the  trust,  imposed 
by  his  dying  friend  ? 

Going  to  the  piano,  placed  there  by  his  kind 
thoughtfulness,  she  raises  its  lid,  and  is  about  to 
run  her  fingers  over  the  ivory  keys,  when  she  dis- 
covers a  small  package,  addressed  to  herself,  resting 
upon  them. 

It  is  a  small  velvet  case,  round  which  is  wrapped 
the  following  note : 

"My  DEAR  'CHITA: 

In  looking  over  a  collection  of  antique  jewels  I 
found  this.  If  you  can  willingly  leave  your  Mexi- 
can relatives,  and  stay  contentedly  with  me,  wear 
it  till  I  return.  Then,  we  may  better  understand 
each  other,  and  be  happier  than  before. 

Think  of  me  always  as,    Your  loving 

GUARDIAN." 

She  opened  the  box  with  an  exclamation  of  pleas- 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  83 

ure,  for  there  lay  the  lovliest,  quaintest  old  ring  she 
had  ever  seen  !  On  a  slender  band,  a  mere  thread, 
was  set  a  tiny  four-leaf  clover,  brilliant  with  dia- 
monds. 

"How  lovely!"  she  cries.  "And  how  good  of 
him  to  think  of 'me  !  Of  course  I  shall  wear  it."  She 
slipped  it  upon  her  slender  finger  and  turned  it 
slowly  to  watch  the  sparkle. 

"  My  dear  Guardian  !  He  is  not  tired  of  me  after 
all.  How  could  I  believe  him  unkind?" 

But  she  had  not  a  little  teasing  from  Viva,  who 
was  very  curious  to  know  all  about  the  new  ring. 
Conchita  somehow,  shrank  from  explaining  that  it 
came  from  her  guardian :  for  well  she  knew^the 
supercilious  looks  and  unpleasant  allusions  to 
"  poor  Earnest's  infatuation "  that  Mrs.  Paulding 
would  heap  upon  her. 

So,  when  Viva  .exclaimed,  "Oh,  .'Chita!  Where 
did  you  get  that  queer  old  ring?" 

She  answered  simply,  "  It  was  given  to  me." 

"  By  whom  ?  The  giver  has  excellent  taste.  My  ! 
how  I  wish  my  adorer  would  give  me  such  a  beauty 
— though  mine  is  handsome,"  looking  lovingly  at 
the  solitaire  on  her  left  hand.  "  Come,  tell  me  all 
about  it.  I  see  it  is  your  engagement  finger — are 
you  to  marry  soon  ?  And  who  is  the  happy  man  ?" 

"This  is  no  love  token,"  says  'Chita,  blushing 
deeply  "  simply  a  gift  from  my  dearest  and  truest 
friend — my — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  !"  interrupts  Viva.  "It's  the  Don  ! 
We  met  him  while  shopping,  and  he  will  call  to- 
morrow, as  we  are  engaged  for  this  evening.  How 
lovely  to  have  such  a  nice  rich  beau  !  I  do  not  envy 
you,  however,  for  I  saw  Harry  too ;  he  sends  his  re 
gards  and  says  he  will  call  soon.  I  guess  we  shall 


84  CONCHITA. 

have  another  row  with  my  sweet  mother  when 
Uncle  Earnest  comes,  for  I  can  keep  Harry  quiet 
no  longer.  He  must  wait  till  then,  or  take  me  with- 
out any  wedding  finery.  White  satin,  kid  gloves, 
and  orange  blossoms  are  very  dear  to  my  heart,  but 
I  should  not  dare  to  broach  the  subject  without 
Uncle  Earnest's  support." 

So  Viva  rattled  on,  changing  the  subject  before 
'Chita  could  correct  her  mistake. 

A  week  passed,  still  another,  but  no  Mr.  Greyson 
appeared. 

Conchita  filled  the  vases  each  morning  with  fresh 
flowers,  and  kept  the  library  in  perfect  order  for  his 
reception — still,  he  came  not. 

The  Don  had  bidden  them  good-bye,  and  sailed 
for  Spain — called  home  on  important  business. 

Harry  and  Viva  were  so  wrapped  up  in  each  other 
that  'Chita  was  much  alone. 

This  evening,  she  sits  in  the  gathering  shadows, 
singing  Mrs.  Hemans'  beautiful  "-  Evening  Song  to 
the  Virgin." 

Clear  and  deep  rings  out  the  exquisite  melody, 
and  each  word,  coming  from  her  very  heart  is  dis- 
tinct and  full  of  feeling. 

"  Ave  sanctissima, 

We  lift  our  souls  to  thee, 
Or  a  pronobis, 
1Tis  night-fall  on  the  sea. 

Watch  us  while  shadows  lie  ; 

Far  o'er  the  waters  spread 
Hear  the  heart's  lonely  sigh, 

Thine  too  hath  bled. 

Thou  that  hast  looked  on  death, 

Aid  us  when  Death  is  near. 
Whisper  of  Heav'n  to  Faith, 

Sweet  Mother,  swt-et  mother,  hear  !" 

A  man  enters  quietly  and  steps  unseen, behind 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  85 

the  inspired  singer;  he  looks  hungrily  into  her 
sweet  face  and  presses  his  lips  to  the  dark  masses 
of  hair  coiled  low  upon  her  neck. 

"  Ora  pronobis, 
The  wave  must  rock  our  sleep, 

Ora,  Mater,  ora, 
Star  of  the  Deep." 

The  last  deep  tone  has  died  away,  when,  dropping 
his  hands  to  her  shoulders,  he  says,  softly  : 

"Conchita !  Are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?" 

"  Very  glad,  sir." 

"Prove  it,  my  darling!  Give  me  a  kiss  from 
your  own  sweet  lips. 

"No,'5  he  answers,  as  she  turns  her  cheek,  "I 
want  your  lips.  Just  once,  Conchita  I  What !  must 
I  take  it  by  force  ?" 

Folding  her  in  his  arms  he  kisses  eyes,  brow  and 
lips  in  such  an  ardent,  possessive  manner,  that  she 
pleads : 

"Oh,  dear  Mr.  Grey  son,  please  let  me  go  !"  in  a 
vain  effort  to  hide  her  face,  she  unthinkingly  drops 
her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"That  is  right,"  he  says,  lovingly  pressing  it 
closer  to  his  heart. 

"Oh,  let  me  go  !"  making  vain  efforts  to  free 
herself. 

"  Never !"  he  says,  "  Till  you  promise  to  stay  with 
me  always." 

"  You  are  cruel !" 

"  Cruel,  my  darling  ?  Don't  you  know  I  love  you 
madly — better  than  life  itself  ?  Look  up,  my  sweet 
— tell  me,  can  you  love  me  a  little  ?" 

"  Don't"  she  exclaims  in  horror,  "  have  you  for- 
gotten that  woman " 

"  I  hope  to,  love,"  he  interrupts,  "with  your  help. 
Thank  God  she  can  trouble  us  no  more.  I  buried 


86  CONCHITA. 

her  a  month  ago — there  can  be  no  mistake.  Now, 
sweet-heart,  you  shall  tell  me — you  love  your  cross 
old  guardian  ? 

"With  all  my  heart !"  she  whispers  shyly,  look- 
ing down. 

"  Then  put  your  arms  around  my  neck— close,  and 
say,  '  Earnest,  I  love  you ! ' " 

Blushingly  she  obeys,  saying  softly,  "Earnest — I 
— love  you." 

"And  will  marry  you,"  continues  her  instructor, 
"  one  week  from  to-day  !' 

"  Oh  no  !"  she  exclaims,  "  that's  too  soon." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  want  you  so  much  pet,' 
pleadingly. 

"But,  when  people — marry,  they  should  get  a  lot 
of  dresses  and " 

"  Nonsense  !  Do  I  want  you,  or  your  clothes  ?  I 
shall  cable  Worth  to  have  a  complete  trosseau  ready 
when  we  arrive  in  Paris.  We  will  send  your  meas- 
ure, complexion,  and  eyes,  leaving  the  rest  to  his 
exquisite  taste.  My  wife,"  with  a  fond  kiss,  "-shall 
not  be  tormented  by  worrying  dressmakers.  I  want 
her  all  to  myself." 

"But  your  sister?"  says  Chita,  "  she  will  be  so 
angry !  " 

"I  can  hold  my  own,"  he  answers  proudly. 

"  But  please  don't  tell  her — yet." 

"Why  love,  how  can  I  have  you  to  myself,  if 
they  know  nothing  of  our  plans  ?  I  am  too  selfish 
to  care  for  other  company." 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  she  says  artlessly,  "  they 
rarely  ever  come  here." 

"  And  you  will  meet  me  often  ? "  he  questions 
eagerly. 

"  When  you  like,"  she  says,  sweetly. 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  87 

"  Good  girl !"  with  a  satisfied  smile,  "  she  shall 
have  something  pretty,"  he  feels  for  some  object  in 
his  pocket.  There  is  a  flash  of  diamonds  as  he 
places  the  ring  upon  her:  finger. 

"  Little  darling  !"  he  exclaims,  seeing  his  former 
gift,  "  you  wore  my  ring !  You  were  willing  to 
stay?" 

"Yes,"  she  answers,  "it  was  a  great  comfort  to 
me ;  wearing  it  seemed  to  bring  me  nearer  to 
you." 

"  What  did  you  think,  sweetheart,  when  you  read 
my  note  ?  " 

"  That  you  were  kind  and  considerate." 

"Not  that  I  loved  you?" 

"No,  I  never  dreamed  of  that." 

"  And  you,  sweet,  when  did  you  begin  to  love 
me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I  only  found  it  out  that — that  day 
at  New  Orleans." 

"  My  own  darling  !  I  thought  you  despised  me 
then.  I  have  loved  you,  pet,  almost  from  the  first. 
You  have  no  idea  how  jealous  I  was  of  Don  Gonza- 
lez and  your  cousin." 

"Poor  'Fonso,"  she  sighs,  "he  died  nobly." 

"  Better  death,  love,  than  life  without  you." 

"Oh,"  she  cries,  "let  me  go !  I  hear  some  one 
coming." 

Kissing  her  passionately,  he  quotes : 

"  I  can  not  leave  thee. 

Though  I  say, 
Good-bye,  sweetheart, 
Good-bye! " 

"  Adios,  Senor,"  she  returns  demurely,  slipping 
from  the  room. 

******* 

A  few  days  later  Mrs.  Paulding  discovered  her 


88  CONCHITA. 

brother's  engagement,  and  the  good  lady's  anger 
knew  no  bounds. 

She  entered  the  library  one  morning,  to  consult 
her  brother  on  some  little  business  matters,  when  to 
her  horror,  she  saw  him  seated  on  the  sofa,  his  arm 
around  'Chita's  waist,  her  head  upon  his  breast,  her 
beautiful  black  eyes  looking  love  into  the  face,  bent 
with  such  adoring  tenderness  to  catch  her  every 
whisper. 

"  Earnes.t  Greyson !"  fairly  yelled  his  enraged 
relative,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  such  outrageous 
conduct  ?" 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?"  he  answers  coolly,  "why  my 
dear  sister,  I  mean — in  short — matrimony !" 

"One  would  think,  "she  retorts  bitterly,  " that 
one  trial  of  matrimonial  bliss  (?)  would  satisfy 
you." 

"Well,  you  see  it  has  not,"  then,  very  politely, 
"  if  that  is  all,  we  will  excuse  you." 

"  And  does  that  artful  jade  know  your  wife  is 
living?"  she  inquires  angrily. 

"  This  lady,"  drawing  'Chita  still  closer,  "  who,  in 
a  few  days  will  be  my  wife,  is  thoroughly  acquaint- 
ed with  my  past.  The  person  you  so  kindly  allude 
to,  is  dead." 

"  Dead  !"  she  exclaims,  "  I  have  my  doubts.  Mark 
my  words — nothing  but  shame  and  misery  will  come 
of  this  marriage  !  But  I've  nothing  to  say — abso- 
lutely nothing  !  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  whole 
affair."  With  scornful  mien,  she  walks  in  stately 
anger  from  their  presence. 

"  She  almost  makes  me  feel  that  we  are  doing 
wrong,"  says  'Chita  with  a  little  shudder.  "What 
if  I  bring  pain  and  suffering  to  you  ?" 

"  Why  darling,"  he  answers  tenderly,  "  what  ill 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  89 

can  befall  us,  so  long  as  we  love  and  trust  each 
other  as  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  I  dread  something — I  know 
not  what !" 

"  Come  pet,"  soothingly,  "think  of  something  else. 
Shall  we  go  direct  to  Switzerland  or  tarry  a  while 
in  Paris?" 

"  Oh,"  she  says,  diverted  at  once,  "  nature  first,  by 
all  means  !  Art  can  wait." 

Viva  and  Harry,  on  hearing  of  the  approaching 
marriage,  determine,  in  spite  of  all  opposition,  to 
be  united  by  the  same  ceremony. 

"  I  never  would  have  believed  it  of  'Chita  !"  laughs 
Viva,  "  never  !  I  will  always  suspect  all  quiet  girls, 
after  this.  They  are  '  deep,  sir,  deep,  and  sly,  dev- 
ilish sly  ! '  But  I'm  so  glad — we'll  all  marry  and  go 
off  together.  It's  just  simply  lovely  !" 

"And  pray,"  asks  her  mother's  cold,  sarcastic 
voice,"  in  what  will  you  clothe  yourselves?  You 
have  nothing — literally  nothing !" 

"  Oh  well,"  laughs  her  saucy  daughter,  "  we  can 
go  South,  and  emulate  Mother  Eve's  noble  ex- 
ample." 

The  few  day  before  the  marriage  are  filled  with 
much  shopping,  packing,  unpleasant  remarks  from 
Mrs.  Paulding,  but  delightful  love  talks  with  their 
adorers. 

The  double  wedding  is  a  very  private  affair,  and 
the  happy  party  starts  immediately  for  Europe. 

"At  last,"  says  Earnest,  as  Conchita  and  he 
stand  on  deck,  watching  the  land  slowly  fade  from 
sight, '''  I  feel  that  you  are  my  very  own  !" 

"It  is  so  strange,"  she  answers,  slowly  turning 
her  wedding  ring,  "that  this,  and  a  few  solemn 
words  can  so  change  our  lives." 


90  CONCHITA. 

"Delightfully  strange/' he  returns  with  a  happy 
laugh.  "  But  pet,  I  have  some  sad  news." 

"Is  Auntie " 

"  Auntie  is  quite  well.  My  news  is  political. 
Maximilian,  Miramon  and  Mejia  were — shot,  on  the 
'  hill  of  the  bells,'  June  the  nineteenth." 

"How  horrible  !  But  I  feared  it  all  along.  Poor 
Carlotta !" 

''Come,  love,  forget  it  all — tell  me,  now  that  the 
world  is  before  us,  are  you  quite  content,  can  you 
trust  your  whole  happiness  to  me  ?" 

"I  trust  you  perfectly,  utterly!"  she  whispers 
softly. 

"  Then  may  God  deal  with  me  as  I  do  with  you, 
my  wife  !"  he  answers  reverently. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


OUR  bridal  party  has  spent  a  month  among  the 
glorious  Alps. 

They  have  scaled  the  Jungfrau,  gazed  with 
mingled  awe  and  admiration  on  the  eternal  snows 
of  Mount  Blanc  and  the  Matterhorn,  walked  upon 
the  wonderful  Mer  der  Glac,  listened  to  the  clear 
reverberating  songs  of  numerous  shepherd  lads,  and 
sailed  on  the  calm  waters  of  blue  Lucern. 

Viva  now  craves  a  change,  and  insists  on  going  to 
Paris,  being  presented,  and  plunge  into  French 
society. 

But  'Chita  is  unwilling  to  leave  these  lofty,  snow- 
capped summits,  poetic  legends,  and  their  ideal  life 
for  the  unsatisfying  gaieties  of  brilliant  Paris. 

"Well,  my  dear  aunt,"  laughs  mischievous  Viva, 
"  we  shall  stay  one  week  longer;  then  you  positively 
must  go  with  us ;  I  have  just  set  my  heart  on  being 
presented  with  your  own  handsome  self.  Besides 
— my  court  dress  is  lovely  !  Almost  as  beautiful  as 
your  own." 

"  And  you  are  dying  to  wear  it  ?"  questions 
'Chita. 

"  Of  course  !    Ar'nt  you  ?" 

"Not  especially." 

"  Then,  madame,  you  don't  deserve  such  gowns  ! 


92  CONCHITA. 

I'm  ashamed  of  you !  One  would  think  you  had 
been  married  thirty  years  instead  of  days!"1  exclaimed 
Mrs.  McAlister  indignantly ;  for  the  little  lady  de- 
lighted in  dress  and  society. 

One  day,  towards  the  end  of  'Chita's  week  of 
grace,  they  are  overtaken,  on  the  mountains,  by  a 
blinding  rain-storm. 

"There  is  a  house  near  by,"  says  the  guide,  "  but," 
crossing  himself  devoutly  "  the  old  woman  that  lives 
in  it  is  a  witch  !" 

"Lead  on  !"  cried  Mr.  Greyson,  "  if  in  league  with 
Satan  himself,  she  must  shelter  us  !" 

A  short  walk  brings  them  to  dilapitated  old  hut, 
on  the  door  of  which  their  guide  raps  loudly.  An 
ancient  crone  opens  it  wide  enough  to  protrude  her 
head,  and  asks  in  French,  "  What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Shelter,  good  woman,  for  the  love  of  God  !" 
cried  Earnest. 

"Enter,"  she  returns,  shortly. 

A  few  coals  smoulder  on  the  open  fire-place,  and 
round  these  our  half  frozen  tourists  gather. 

Their  hostess  takes  no  further  notice  of  them, 
but  sits  with  open,  staring  eyes,  like  one  in  a 
trance. 

The  storm  rages  furiously.  The  wind  howls  hor- 
ribly, then  moans  and  sobs  like  some  wild  creature 
in  agony. 

But  our  party  are  too  busy  thawing  themselves  to 
be  awed  by  these  wierd  surroundings. 

By  and  by  they  spread  their  lunch  upon  the  floor, 
and  invite  the  old  woman  to  join  them ;  but  she  is 
too  absorbed  in  her  stony  gaze  to  heed  them. 

At  last  the  storm  subsides  and  Conchita,  approach- 
ing their  eccentric  hostess,  says  : 

"  We  thank  you  greatly,  Madame,  for  your  timely 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  93 

shelter.     Will  you   not   accept    this,"  offering  her 
purse,  "as  a  token  of  our  gratitude?" 

"  I  want  not  your  gold,  lady,"  answers  the  woman, 
"  but  listen "  grasping  her  hand  in  a  strong,  mag- 
netic clasp,  "  you  are  in  danger — jreat  danger  !  Go 
not  to  Paris,  you  will  be  miserable  !" 

"Why  madame,"  returns  Chita  in  amaze,  "my 
husband  can  protect  me." 

"  No,  child,  he  will  be  powerless  !  None  can  help 
you.  'Tis  written — your  happiness  will  be  but  ashcx! 
Beware  of  the  black-eyed  woman — she  hates  you— 
will  separate  you  from  all  you  love.  Beware  !  my 
spirits  never  lie.  Farewell,  Concliita — remember!" 

'Chita's  hand  slowly  falls  to  her  side,  and  the 
prophetess  once  more  resumes  her  visionary  state. 

"  Come,  darling,"  says  Earnest,  seeing  how  agi- 
tated his  wife  had  become,  "  let  us  leave  this  un- 
canny place.  No  wonder  you  are  frightened.  Don't 
think  of  it  pet." 

"Oh  Earnest,  my  husband,  I  fear  some  evil!" 
cries  'Chita,  much  distressed.  "How  could  she 
know  my  name,  or  that  we  were  going  to 
Paris  ?" 

"  She  is  probably  a  mind  reader."  he  returns. 
"  Don't  distress  yourself,  sweetheart.  What  could 
part  or  make  us  unhappy?" 

"  Be  patient,  with  me,  dearest — 1  know  not  what 
I  fear !" 

She  is  really  much  distressed  oy  the  strange  warn- 
ing. Though  not  permitting  herself  to  believe,  yet 
she  fears  some  hidden  evil;  an  unaccountable 
feeling  of  terror  possesses  her  when  Paris  is 
mentioned. 

Viva  tries  to  laugh  away  this  "superstitious 
crank,"  but  poor  'Chita  receives  her  gay  remarks, 


94  CONCHITA. 

as  she  does  Mr.  Greyson's  serious  reasoning,  in 
dumb  despair. 

"Conchita,"  said  her  husband,  "this  is  unlike 
you.  Be  brave,  my  darling!  If  danger  must  be 
encountered,  should  we  not  meet  it  at  once  ?" 

"  You  are  right/'  she  acknowledges."  Uncertainty 
is  killing!  Let  us  start  to-morrow." 

"  Plucky  little  woman !"  he  cries,  kissing  her 
fondly. 

"And  Earnest,  if  anything  should  happen " 

"Nothing  will  happen,  my  sweet !" 

"You  will  always  love  me — just  as  you  do  now?" 

"  Nonsense,  pet !    I  could  not  love  you  less." 

Next  day  they  leave  for  Paris,  and  plunge  at  once 
into  the  gayeties  of  that  charming  city. 

Viva's  long  wished  for  presentation  at  last  takes 
place,  and  the  girls  attract  much  attention,  both  for 
their  beauty  and  exquisite  toilettes. 

Though  constantly  on  the  go,  they  are  "doing 
Paris  "  leisurely  •  each  according  to  his  or  her  own 
taste.  The  gay  capital  is  no  novelty  to  Mr.  Grey- 
son,  so  he  goes  submissively,  wherever  his  young 
wife  leads. 

This  morning  we  find  them  in  the  Louvre,  admir- 
ing its  priceless  works  of  art. 

"How  exquisite  !"  she  exclaims,  stopping  before 
one  of  Tintoretto's  famous  pictures.  "Is  not  that 
coloring  beautiful?  Those  flesh  tints  are  simply 
perfect !  They  remind  me  of  Titian." 

"Ha!  ha!  My  sweet  innocent,"  cries  a  mocking 
voice,  "so  I've  found  you  at  last !" 

"  Blanchette  !"  qried  Mr.  Greyson,  turning  deathly 
pale.  "My  God!  can  the  dead  live?'' 

"Not  so,  my  dear  husband,"  she  answers,  a  cruel 
light  in  her  eyes. 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  95 

"  How  could  I  leave  you  desolate  ?  But  look  at 
Madame — she  faints  !  Mon  Dieu  f  she  loves  you 
much!  Ha!  ha!  ha!" 

'Chita  certainly  looks  faint,  but  motions  him 
away,  and  leans  for  support  against  a  massive 
column. 

"  Tell  me,  you  fiend  in  human  shape,"  cries 
Earnest  in  angry  despair,  "how  you  managed  to 
deceive  me !  Did  I  not  place  you  in  your  coffin,  and 
see  you  buried?" 

"You  did,  my  sweet  lord.  That  was  my  little 
game.  Blanchette  is  wise  ;  she  knew  you  loved  the 
young  innocent.  Did  not  your  eyes  declare  it — that 
night  in  New  Orleans?  So,  loving  you  so  dearly, 
she  formed  the  little  plan  to  complete  your  happi- 
ness. Ha!  ha!  Revenge  is  sweet !" 

"  But  your  death  ?"  he  asks  sternly. 

•'Chut!  Is  it  possible  Monsieur  has  not  heard  of 

the  great  mesmerist  C ?  what  more  easy  than  a 

hypnotic  slumber  ?  I  could  rely  on  faithful  friends 
to  rescue  my  poor  body.  All  are  not  so  unkind  as 
my  dear  husband.  Ha !  ha !  How  does  the  new 
wife  feel  ?  I  wish  you  joy,  sweet  innocent !  '  When 
shall  we  three  meet  again  ?' "  Adieu  Madame,  may 
you  be  happy !  Ha !  ha !"  and  with  a  fiendish  laugh, 
she  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  she  came. 

"Conchita,"  says  Mr.  Greyson,  "my  darling 
wife — " 

"Oh,  no!"  she  cries  with  a  shudder,  "do  not 
touch  me !  I  am  not  your  wife,  have  never  been ! 
O  God  !  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"Dearest,  listen  to  me.  Legally,  and  morally  you 
are  my  wife.  That  fiend  is  nothing  to  me.  No 
power  in  heaven  or  hell  can  separate  us  save — your 
own  will," 


96  CONCHITA. 

"Holy  Mother!"  she  cries  in  anguish/' help  me 
to  decide." 

"  Come,  love,"  he  says  tenderly  let  us  go  home." 

"  Home  !  I  have  no  home  !  Oh,  why  did  I  leave 
my  own  sunny  land  ?" 

"  Come,  Conchita,  this  is  no  place  for  private  dis- 
cussions," He  takes  her  arm,  walks  silently  through 
the  building,  enters  a  cab  and  is  rapidly  driven  to 
their  hotel. 

"Now,  dear  child,"  he  says,  as  they  reach  their 
own  rooms,"  be  perfectly  open  with  me.  You 
know  I  would  give  my  life  to  ensure  your  happi- 
ness." 

"I  am  too  stunned  for  thought,"  she  answers. 
"  Leave  me,  please,  and — don't  let  Viva  come  in." 

"No,  dear  love,"  bending  to  kiss  her,  but  she 
shrinks  from  his  caress.  With  a  sigh  he  leaves  her. 

Alone  with  her  own  heart,  Conchita  fights  a  long 
fierce  battle. 

"  Leave  him  at  once,"  says  Conscience,  "  he  is  not 
your  husband.  Life  with  him  will  be  nothing  less 
than  adultery.  '  What  God  hath  joined,  let  no  man 
put  asunder.'" 

"But,"  whispers  Inclination,  "did  God  join  him 
to  that  wretch  ?  Was  it  not  the  devil's  own  work  ? 
You  are  his  wife — by  the  great  love  you  bear  each 
other,  by  your  kinship  of  feeling,  by  that  vondrous 
magnetic  chord  which  unites  your  very  souls  !  That 
complete  oneness  is  given  only  of  heaven.  Listen 
to  your  heart — '  God  is  love.'  " 

"The  heart  is  deceitful;"  urges  Conscience,  "heed 
not  its  pleadings." 

"  Conscience  often  commits  great  crimes,"  sug- 
gests Love,  "  Love  comes  from  God,  and  is  //(>/>/, 
pure,  unselfish!  Think  how  he  adores  you,  how 


A   MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  97 

happy  you  have  been,  how  miserable  you  would  be 
apart.  Think  of  his  lonely  life — can  you  have  the 
heart  to  leave  him  ?  Will  you  be  content  ?  You 
are  so  young — think  of  the  long,  sad  years  you  must 
spend  alone,  alone,  alone!" 

"  I  cannot  give  him  up!  "  she  cries,  in  agony. 

"Dear  child,"  says  Conscience,  "  think  calmly. 
Your  mother,  the  Church,  forbids  the  indulgence 
you  crave.  Consider  your  early  training,  the  beau- 
tiful prayers  you  learned  in  childhood,  the  vows 
you  took  at  confirmation — our  holy  mother  would 
grieve  over  your  shameful  sin.  Can  you  cut  your- 
self off  from  her  consolation,  give  up  the  holy  com- 
munion for  the  mere  gratification  of  self  ?  Purify 
your  heart,  O!  child  of  earth — reach  out  for  lofty 
ideas,  holy  aspirations.  Seek  to  become  more  like 
the  great  Eternal,  and  '  A  peace,  that  passeth  all  un- 
derstanding '  will  fill  your  heart." 

"But,"  ventures  Worldly  Wisdom,  "what  will 
society  say  ?  Have  you  thought  of  the  scandal  'twill 
cause  ?  Go  quietly  on  with  your  married  life — there 
is  no  sin.  You  were  both  deceived.  Drown  your 
sorrows  in  gaieties,  remember — '  There's  a  skeleton 
in  every  household.' ' 

"Oh  holy  mother!"  prays  the  poor  distracted 
girl,  "  Guide  me  aright,  help  me  O  Father,  to  do  my 
duty — make  the  way  plain  for  thy  poor,  miserable 
child.  Give  me  strength  to  follow  thy  command !" 

By  degrees,  she  becomes  calm,  and  when  Mr. 
Grey  son  returns  can  talk  quietly,  almost  dispas- 
sionately. 

"It  is  best,  dear,"  she  says  sadly,  ""that  we  sepa- 
rate— but  we  need  have  no  publicity.  Viva  and 
Harry  will  return  soon,  and  till  then,  I  will  pass  as 


98  CONCHITA. 

your — wife.  Of  course,  you  will  have  your  own 
apartments,  but — they  need  not  know." 

"And  afterwards  ?"  asks  her  husband,  whose  well 
controlled  face  is  like  a  marble  mask.  "Have  you 
thought  of  that  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  remain,  to  study  Art  in  Rome.  And 
you — you  have  always  your  business." 

"And  must  I  never  see  you,  never  know  if  you 
are  living  or  dead?" 

"It  is  best  so." 

"Would  you  be  happier?' 

"I  should  suffer  less." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  desire.  I  will  do  all  in  my 
power  to  render  you  less  miserable." 

"  Thank  you  so  much  for  your  kind  unselfishness. 
I  know  how  terribly  you  suffer." 

"Do  not  think  of  me,  pet.  It  is  the  thought  that 
I,  who  love  you  so  very  dearly  should  have  brought 
this  blight  on  young  life,  which  distresses  me  so." 

"  Oh  my  darling  ?"  she  cries,  throwing  herself  in- 
to his  arm.  "  Grieve  not  that  we  love.  Your  love  is 
my  brightest  jewel — one  that  will  never  grow  dim  !" 

"  Thank  God  !  "  he  says,  kissing  her  almost  rever- 
ently, "  we  can  love,  and  sin  not.  'Love  is  eternal ' 
and  lives,  even  after  death." 


CHAPTER    XX. 


THE  first  few  weeks  of  her  altered  life  are  very 
trying  to  poor  Conchita. 

No  matter  how  sad  she  feels,  she  must  appear 
gay  and  happy  so  long  as  Viva  and  Harry  are  with 
them. 

At  last,  to  her  intense  relief,  they  return  to 
America,  and  she  settles  in  earnest,  to  begin  her 
Art  work. 

Instead  of  going  to  Rome  she  procures  comforta- 
ble apartments  in  the  old  Latin  quarter,  so  well 
known  for  its  picturesque  settings,  and  joins  a  class 
of  American  students  who  are  making  a  brave  fight 
for  art  and  fame. 

This  she  does  for  companionship,  well  knowing 
the  gay  bohemianism  of  her  comrades  would  aid 
largely  in  making  her  forget  self. 

Time  is  a  great  healer  ;  and  now  that  two  years 
have  passed,  Conchita  really  enjoys  her  work. 

Hers  is  a  truly  artistic  nature.  Possessed  of  a 
good  eye  for  form  and  color,  a  fine  understanding 
of  light  and  shade,  a  thorough  knowledge  of  per- 
spective, a  dainty  touch  at  scumbling,  she  has  that 
subtile  perception,  genius,  or  what  you  will,  which 
puts  actual  life  into  trees,  animals  and  human  fig- 
ures— lights  the  face  with  expression,  a.nd  makes  all 
objects  depicted  seem  perfectly  natural. 


100  CONCAITA, 

?  She  is  now  putting  her  whole  soul  into  a  "  ten-by- 
seven  "  foot  canvas  for  the' salon — "  The  Last  Kiss." 
The  setting  sun  sheds  his  last  brilliant  rays  over  a 
deserted  battle-field.  The  back-ground  of  distant 
blue  mountains,  nearer  snow-clad  summits,  and 
soft  green  foliage,  reminds  one  forcibly  of  Mexico. 
Dead  soldiers,  broken  pieces  of  artillery,  guns,  can- 
teens, spent  balls,  and  various  implements  of  war, 
are  scattered  over  the  grassy  plane,  which  forms  the 
middle  distance.  In  the  immediate  fore-ground 
lies  an  officer,  wearing  the  uniform  of  Imperial 
Mexico.  A  stream  of  blood  flows  from  his  heart. 
His  face,  though  remarkably  handsome,  is  stamped 
with  an  unmistakable  presence — Death  !  His  dark 
eyes  look  wistfully,  hungrily,  into  those  of  the  beau- 
ful,  white  robed  girl  who  kneels  beside  him.  Her 
face  is  full  of  sad  emotion,  as  her  tremulous  red  lips 
meet  his,  in  one  last,  lingering  kiss. 

The  reader,  of  course,  will  easily  recognize  the 
principal  figures.  Our  artist,  feeling  so  deeply  on 
the  subject,  makes  her  faces,  attitudes  and  surround- 
ings intensely  life-like. 

Mr.  Greyson,  during  these  two  years,  has  re- 
mained in  Europe,  travelling  over  many  lands — 
anywhere,  everywhere — away  from  his  own,  un- 
happy thoughts. 

He  had,  within  the  last  month,  been  recalled  home 
to  take  charge  of  a  difficult  law  case. 

Regularly,  once  a  month,  Conchita  heard  from 
him — a  pressed  flower,  a  cluster  of  ferns,  a  new 
book,  a  tender  poem,  a  rare  engraving — never  a 
letter — reached  her  from  time  to  time. 

She  makes  no  sign,  though  she  passionately  kisses 
the  address  his  hand  had  written,  and  lays  each 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  101 

one    tenderly    away    among     his    few    treasured 
letters. 

Viva  writes  long,  gay  epistles,  full  of  her  happy 
home  life  ;  numerous  gaieties ;  what  a  dear  good 
fellow  Harry  is  ;  "  actually  my  dear,  he  really  grows 
better  with  time,  and  is  as  devoted  as  ever. 

"  But  you — you  headstrong  piece — I  shall  never 
forgive  you  if  you  keep  up  that  art  craze  any 
longer. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  it  anyhow  ?  Have  you 
and  my  respected  uncle  quarreled  ?  You  must 
have  some  grave  reason  for  acting  in  this  cold- 
blooded way.  If  he  was'nt  the  best  man  in  the 
world  (Harry  excepted)  he  would  not  stand  such 
treatment ! 

"  Here  he  has  been  over  a  month  and  I  am  sure 
hasn't  heard  a  word  from  you — for  when  I  ask,  he 
assumes  his  most  freezing  manner  and  I  wilt  com- 
pletely. 

"  Mania,  I  know,  makes  it  hot  for  him.  She  is  eter- 
nally tormenting  me  to  know'  if  I  noticed  any  dis- 
agreement between  you — the  idea  of  two  such  de- 
voted people  quarrelling  on  their  wedding  tour  ! 

"  But  really,  'Chita,  all  nonsense  aside,  1  wish 
you  would  come  home.  I  know  Uncle  needs  you, 
though  he  would  die  before  he'd  complain.  I  do  be- 
lieve he  is  turning  grey — he  looks  so  worn  and  tired 
all  the  time. 

"  You  know,  dear,  its  a  woman's  duty  to  look 
after  her  husband. 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  leave  my  Harry  ?  No  in- 
deed !  Neither  art  nor  science,  fashion,  nor  any 
other  craze  could  make  us  part  voluntarily  ! " 

"Alas  !"  thinks  Conchita,  "'How  little  she  knows 


102  CONCHITA. 

of  my  fearful  struggle ;  but  '  break  my  heart,  for  I 
must  hold  my  tongue.' " 

Exhibition  day  at  last  arrives,  and  'Chita's  de- 
light is  unbounded  when  she  sees  her  picture  well 
hung,  and  attracting  general  attention. 

No  joy  can  exceed  the  exquisite  thrill  of  rapture 
which  fills  the  breast  of  a  real  artist  on  seeing  the 
creatures  of  his  hand  and  brain,  appreciated  by  ca- 
pable critics.  It  is  pure,  elevating,  ecstatic — for  a 
time. 

"Madame,"  says  an  obsequious  picture  dealer, 
"  what  will  you  take  for  your  painting  ?" 

"It  is  not  for  sale,"  she  answers  quietly. 

"But,"  he  persists,  "Madame  may  command  her 
own  price — a  wealth  Spaniard  desires  it  much,  and 
cares  not  for  money  !" 

"I  shall  not  sell,"  she  returns  decidedly. 

Bowing  politely,  he  departs,  but  returns  in  a  few 
minutes,  saying : 

"  Pardon,  Madame,  Monsieur,  the  Spaniard,  in- 
sists !  He  implores  madame  to  grant  an  interview. 
Is  it  so  ?  Madame  is  gracious  ?  Merci  Madame  !" 

Away  he  hurries,  returning,  shortly  with  our  old 
friend,  Don  Henrique  Gonzalez. 

"Ah,"  she  exclaims,  giving  her  hand,  "what  a 
delightful  surprise  !  " 

"Many  thanks,  dear  senorita!  The  joy  is  mine. 
Never  did  I  dream  of  such  bliss  as  meeting  you  here  ! 
Ah  !  I  see  you,  too,  look  upon  the  picture  I  covet.  Is 
it  not  fair  Mexico  ?  And  see,  the  face  is  your  very 
own  !  I  want  it  much,  I  must  have  it — but  my 
agents  say  the  artist  is  obdurate  !  I  must  have  it — 
your  beautiful  face  !  though,  I  despair !  lead  on  !"  to 
his  guide,  "  1  will  return,  senorita,  I  go  to  implore 
this  cold-hearted  painl  r  !  Adios  !" 


A  MEXICAN  ROMANCE.  103 

"  You  need  not  go,"  she  says,  with  a  smile.  "  It 
is  myself  you  seek." 

"  You  senorita  ?    Then  indeed,  I  despair  ?  " 

"Not  so.  I  cannot  dispose  of  this— it  has  been 
my  very  life — but  you  shall  have  a  faithful  copy." 

"  Many,  many  thanks,  sweet  senorita !  I  am 
your  slave  !  Your  goodness  is  beyond  compare. 
But — I  knew  not  you  were  in  Europe.  Your  gay 
young  friend,  and  your  grave  guardian,  are  they 
not  with  you  ?" 

"No  senor,  I  am  alone." 

"Alone?" 

"  Yes ;  I  have  been  here  two  years,  studying 
art." 

"Two  years,  and  I  knew  it  not !"  then,  admiring 
the  beautifully  finished  work  before  him,  "  Senorita 
is  a  great  artist !  She  will  be  famous,  sought  after, 
admired  !  But  oh,  beloved  senorita,  leave  it  all  and 
fly  with  me  to  sunny  Spain — my  castle  shall  be  your 
fairy  bower — I,  your  slave  !  Come,  sweet  lady, 
come  with  me  !" 

"  Hush,  senor,  I  implore  you  !  do  you  not  know — 
have  you  not  heard  —  that  —  that  I  am  already 
married  ?" 

"  Senorita,  torture  me  not !  You  only  try  me — is 
it  so  ?" 

"  No,  clear,  kind  friend,  it  is  true." 

"  And  your  husband — you  love  him  much — you 
are  happy." 

"Senor,  if  you  really  love  me,  ask  no  questions." 

"  Ah,  he  is  a  brute  !  Where  is  he  ?  Him  I  will 
kill !''  fiercely. 

"  No,  dear  friend,  you  cannot  understand.  He  is 
•-jrand,  noble — and  I  love  him  devotedly  I" 


104  CONCHITA. 

"  But  you  are  not  happy,"  looking  long  into  her 
sad  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  explain,"  sadly. 

" Senorita,  you  suffer — tell  me  all!  I  am  no 
longer  your  lover — but  your  faithful  friend,  your 
slave  !  Let  me  help  you." 

"Thank  you,  my  noble  friend.  God  alone  can 
help  me." 

They  converse  long  and  earnestly,  and,  as  she 
rises  to  return  to  her  lodgings,  he  hands  her  his 
card,  saying,  "  I  shall  not  intrude,  senorita, — will 
not  follow  to  your  home ;  but,  if  you  need  me,  send 
to  this  address.  I  will  fly  to  you  instantly. 

They  say  farewell,  and  she  turns  slowly  homeward. 

In  crossing  the  boulevard  St.  Germain,  she  sees  a 
woman  knocked  down  by  a  runaway  team.  A 
policeman  picks  up  the  unfortunate  victim,  and  a 
knot  of  idlers  gathers  round. 

Conchita,  prompted  by  a  passing  curiosity,  joins 
the  circle  just  as  the  policeman  asks  : 

"Does  anyone  know  this  woman?" 

"  I  do,"  she  answers  quietly,  "it  is  Blanchette— 
the  actress.  Call  a  cab,  please,  I  will  take  her  to  my 
own  rooms." 

"She  is  a  connection— a  sister?"  glancing  from 
one  handsome  face  to  another. 

"  A  connection,"  she  says  promply,  fearing  she 

will  be  taken  to  the  hospital.  "Bring  Dr.  to 

this  address,"  giving  her  card  to  a  newsboy,  "  and 
you  shall  be  well  paid." 

The  doctor,  who  arrives  shortly  after  the  sufferer 
has  been  put  to  bed,  looks  very  grave  after  his  ex- 
amination. He  finally  shakes  his  head,  says  some- 
thing about  "  concussion  of  the  brain,"  gives  a  few 
instructions,  and  bows  himself  out. 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  105 

At  last  Blanchette  opens  her  eyes,  and,  seeing 
the  pitiful  looks  of  her  faithful  nurse,  exclaims  in 
wonder : 

"  Ah,  the  sweet  innocent !  But  where  am  I— 
what  is  the  matter  with  my  poor  head  ?  Ah  ?"  as 
memory  returns,  "  those  dreadful  horses !" 

"  You  must  be  quiet,"  interrupts  'Chita,  "Talking 
will  make  your  head  worse." 

"  So  this  is  a  hospital,  and  you  my  nurse — is  it  so  ? 
Ha !  ha !  what  happiness  to  be  so  tended.  But 
where  is  our  grave  husband  ?  What  pain  he  would 
suffer  to  see  poor  Blanchette  so  helpless  !  Ah,  the 
pain,  the  pain !  I  suffer !  Give  me  morphine, 
chloral,  anything  to  ease  this  torture  !" 

Conchita  sends  again  for  the  doctor,  but  he  only 
shakes  his  head  and  tells  the  young  nurse  her 
charge  is  beyond  help. 

"  She  will  surely  die  before  morning,  Madame — I 
can  only  deaden  the  pain  with  opiates.  No  human 
power  can  save  her." 

•'You  are  positively  certain  of  this?" 

"  I  would  stake  my  reputation,  Madam," — proudly 
— "she  will  probably  die  at  midnight." 

Conchita,  true  to  her  Catholic  training,  makes  an 
effort  to  save  this  poor  soul. 

"Blanchette,"  she  says  gently,  "you  are  very 
ill.  Let  me  send  for  a  priest." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !"  laughs  the  sufferer,  "  I  shall  not  die  ! 
No,  sweet  innocent,  I  care  not  for  your  priest — 
opium,  give  me  opium  and  peace !  Haste  !  or  this 
awful  pain  will  kill  me.  Doctor,  you  I  implore — - 
opium — or  I  die]" 

The  physician  administers  an  opiate  and  retires. 

Blanchette,  still  watched  by  'Chita,  slumbers 
uneasily. 


106  CONCHITA. 

As  the  little  Swiss  clock  chimes  the  solemn  hour 
of  midnight,  her  restless,  unruly  spirit  passes 
quietly  into  the  great  beyond. 

•  ••••*• 

Earnest  Greyson,  as  he  sits  in  his  law  office,  cer- 
tainly looks  older,  and  graver,  than  when  we  last 
saw  him.  His  rich  brown  curls  are  slightly 
sprinkled  with  grey,  and  a  few  wrinkles  of  care 
have  formed  about  both  mouth  and  eyes.  Now  that 
he  is  alone,  a  look  of  sadness  settles  over  his  face. 

"Cablegram,  sir,"  says  a  messenger  boy,"  any 
answer  ?" 

He  opens  it  leisurely,  but  starts  hurriedly  to  his 
feet  as  he  reads  : 

PARIS, -  . 

"Come  at  once.  CONCHITA." 

"Yes,"  he  answers,  looking  hurriedly  over  the 
time-table  of  the  Ocean  Steamship  Co.  Finding 
what  he  wants,  he  writes  rapidly, 

"  Will  start  in  two  hours.  EARNEST." 

Let  us  skip  the  tiresome  voyage,  filled  with  such 
mingled  hope  and  fear — rapture  that  she  should 
want,  should  send  for  him — anxiety  for  her  welfare. 
Why  had  she  sent?  was  she  ill — perhaps  dying,  and 
h,e  so  far  away  ?  could  it  be  - 

Time  moves  on  "leaden  wings,"  but  the  train 
finally .  reaches  bright,  beautiful  Paris,  and  a  well 
paid  cab-man  soon  deposits  him  at  "Chita's  door. 

"Yes,  Madame  is  in  her  atelier,"  the  polite  con- 
cierge informs  him.  "This  way,  monsieur.  Per- 
haps monsieur  wants  to  see  Madame's  picture  ?  See, 
here  is  the  doer — what  name  shall  I  announce  ? 
What?  Monsieur  is  a  friend  of  Madanio's?  Ah, 
merci!  monsieur !"  as  he  drops  a  coin  into  her  will- 
ing hand. 


A   MEXICAN   ROMANCE.  107 

He  opens  the  door  noiselessly. 

There  she  stands,  under  the  skylight,  her  white 
dress  well  covered  by  her  long  painter's  apron, 
busily  working  on  the  Don's  picture. 

He  watches  her  a  moment,  then  as  she  lay  aside 
her  brushes,  hangs  her  palette  upon  her  easel-peg, 
and  steps  back  to  criticise  her  work,  he  opens  his 
arms,  and  cries : 

"  Conchita,  my  darling  !  come  to  me  !" 

With  a  glad  cry  she  nestles  in  his  arms  and  is 
pressed  close,  close  to  his  heart. 

"  You  wanted  me  ?"  he  asks. 

"She  is  dead,"  she  whispers  softly. 

"  Thank  God  "  he  cries  reverently,  "  nothing  can 
part  us  again." 


END. 


l/^Sr^^^^^^^ 


g?j 


.  / 


A     000040472     3 


•*^w  , 

52 


-7WL."> 

m 


